It's 9:00 on Thursday night. By this time Saturday, I need to be packed and ready to go Sunday morning.
And, all of a sudden, I'm in a dead panic about Texas.
Am I doing laundry, or anything else even remotely productive in the way of packing/prepping? Uh... no. Instead, I'm sitting in my bed, eating ice cream and marathoning Covert Affairs on Netflix.
And when I'm done with this ice cream, I'm gonna give myself an Ativan chaser and get ready for bed.
I am soooooo not a real grownup.