Chickens in the bread pan

So there's this song, The Devil Went Down to Georgia, good song, good fiddling, not to my usual taste (ie, under the general umbrella of country) but good. So I downloaded it, as I tend to do with all songs that pop into my head. Apparently I never listened to it, because this morning as I was walking to work, it came on my ipod. Except-it wasn't it! It was the sequel! The devil is all bitter that he got beaten, and plots how to get back at Johnny! It was great at first, but then I got confused. Either it was a kind of lame story about Johnny beating him again, or they get all squared up to go at it again, and then it ends. I couldn't tell if it was anticlimactic, or a cliffhanger. Either way, I liked the music way better than the first one.
I got approved for a YMCA membership for the next three months. I'm going to go every damn day. Really. I think I'll owe myself a dollar every time I don't go. Starting tomorrow. I have to go and officially sign up there later today.
I also mailed off my credit card payment. I paid all of it. At once. Biggest check I've ever written. Ever. Wait, I take that back. I wrote Matt a bigger one to pay him back for my computer. But still. It took some courage. But now I have no credit debt. And maybe my credit will be good enough for me to get an apartment on my own in New York. I've decided that I want to live on my own there. I've always had a roommate, I kind of want to try it on my own. Also, my Great New York Fantasy invlves me finding some great apartment and getting two cats, and living there for the next 10 years. There is no roommate in this scenario. Other than the romance of the perfect apartment, I really don't want to move. Especially all my books. I'm starting to have a substantial collection, and wierdo that I am, I need to take all of them with me everywhere I live (the esception being the upcoming 4 months in Seattle). Also my memory box, and the soon to be memory box #2 that is soon to exist. The first one filled up about when I turned 18, and I haven't gotten a new one, so the last 3 years of my life are semi-undocumented. I should probably stop being so picky about the box itself. Whatever. I'm writing this in Glass Menagerie tech, and I'm going to stop now. And go back to work.