When It's Time To Change, You've Got to Rearrange

I woke up today with an undeniable feeling of inside itchiness, which either meant something big was going to happen, or I had internal chicken pox, which I had never even heard of much less likely come in contact with.

Then it struck me. I was in my room getting ready to change for the gym, when something in my brain said, "Fuck the gym." Usually that voice is urging me to do other things, like have another cup of coffee or smoke a cigarette, and that's why my little invisible friend doesn't want me to go to work out. But this time it was different: the little voice told me to reorganize my room.

Now, I've lived in the same townhouse for the last seven and a half years. Calling it a rut would be like calling Britney Spears a fat, sloppy trailer-trash whore-bag. It's just not quite strong enough. Dig?

So I undertook to move the loveseat and nighttable and guitar amplifier so that I could attempt to somehow move my queen-size bed (insert your own gay jokes here). On a happy side note, I discovered that the middle supporting beam of the frame had come un-screwed, making history as the first thing to become un-screwed in my bed. *rimshot* Of course, this explained why my bed was the squeakiest bed on planet Earth and why my neighbor, who could hear the squeaking through the wall once said to me, "I wondered if you had a squeaky bed or if you just had lots of sex." (This comment, at the time seemingly innocuous, would later become greatly ironic, though that does not need to be documented here.) Of course, I thought it would be impolite to tell a girl I barely knew, "Yeah, it's mostly the sex," so I went with, "Bed's just squeaky. I don't know why." Well, now I do, and thanks to my little friend the wrench, it is now non-squeaky.

I moved the bed, moved the table, and a bunch of other shit before finally vacuuming to complete the effect of new, clean room. And let me tell you: It is awesome.

I decided to retroactively check my horoscope on this matter, not because I believe in astrology, but because sometimes it's fun to see if something you've done that day is freakily mentioned in your horoscope for that day. It's happened to me before, but that involved stealing a bunch of newspapers and jokingly asking a friend of mine to marry me before she and I scattered them across our friends lawns in the pre-dawn hours. But I digress.

Here's what the horoscope had to say: "Tackle this problem one step at a time and be constantly aware of not only how the problem changes, but how your feelings for it mutate, too. In that way, you'll be able to prevent it from happening again."

Turns out, that wasn't much of a help. My feelings were pretty much static as I rearranged furniture. I was excited and remained so. Plus, is furniture moving something you really have to prevent again? I've already used my "feelings" to determine how I will prevent this from happening in the future. Should I see someone break into my bedroom and attempt to move things around, I will shout forcefully, "Unhand that boxspring, scoundrel!" I figure that should pretty much take care of business. No one likes being called a scoundrel.