Sometimes I feel like I will never be "moved in." It's just a huge, overwhelming process. The office, including the filing cabinets, our desks, and the servers, have all been moved over here. In fact, we have a functioning office now, with phones, the Internet, and a vague sense of procedure.

Still much to do (most of my desk's contents are in plastic bags around my feet); and more to do upstairs. I was so exhausted from a grueling, unforgiving weekend of short sleep hours and extensive physical labor, that I just crashed after work on the couch. After an hour, Matt and I went home, where I promptly fell asleep on the apartment couch. Matt made me food, which I ate, and then went back to sleep. He also fell asleep (being probably more tired than I), but at 11, went back to the house to work on the basement's walls to continue to seal them. I wasn't able to do much else but move myself to the bed and fall asleep again until 8 a.m.

I'm not entirely working on autopilot, but I'm pretty zoned. I need to eat something and stretch. My body doesn't want to really stretch, though. My joints feel pretty tight and unwilling to bend.

40 has been in the office twice now. I'm sure this morning, after him cowering for 9 hours under Matt's desk yesterday, he figured it was all a bad dream. He's been cautiously wandering today. He does not like the car ride in the slightest, though.

Transitioning's for everyone.