The redhead is gone in a week.

A WEEK. 1 WEEK. SEVEN DAYS.
    Sometimes, I wish I could perform magic. This is one of those times.
    Yesterday I began the monstrous endeavor which is the emptying of my vast black-hole of a bedroom, and found it to be irritating, stressful, and hard to accomplish due to the unfathomable amount of crap I seem to have attained in the last decade and a half.
My mother bought me three large plastic storage bins, and I haven’t a clue how I am going to manage to tame everything I ever bought, stole, or was given into them!
    As I carried these three bins upstairs, the bottom one in the stack fell out of the stack and the edge of it banged the joint of my big toe. And though it seems pathetic, today I have a beautiful blooming bruise where it hit me.
    Between the bruise, approaching my time of month, having only a week left in the USA, obtaining the hiccups (the bane of my existence) three times in a row, and becoming very sweaty from the constant hotness of the sun I have surpassed grouchy and become something I cannot describe.
    This is why you are NEVER supposed to plan to do things urgently when you have your period. It is simply a bad plan.