LIKE A BOSS.

I cleaned the attic today. I more just tidied it up and cleared out space by stacking boxes atop one another, but I did it and by myself. LIKE A BOSS. I've finally got all of Douchebag's stuff in one -- ONE! -- box (it's packed tight and probably impossible to lift, but it's just a storage issue for now), and some of mine more consolidated as well. I removed three -- THREE! -- boxes from up there. I feel awesome (except my poor forearms, which are sore as all hell). I feel like a champion. Once I got up the nerve to do it, this was pretty much me:



And I cleaned, bitch. Oh yeah, I cleaned. LIKE A BOSS. And now I'm watching the game (Callahan tied in late in the third, and now it's gone to the first shootout of the season over and they won!) and exhausted, but I can't nap for some reason.

( Meme. )

Yesterday evening, Dad scolded me for not having Thanksgiving with the family because "it's not right." Oh, I'm sorry. Did you want to hear me bitching and complaining the whole day? And I don't wanna sit through your prayers, so it's best for all of us that I stay away. Sigh. Whatevs.