Is there a person alive that enjoys moving?
Not the getting new digs part, but the planning, packing, moving of shit, unpacking of said shit, etc...
My OCD is going coocoo at the moment because I have things to do but my brain is saying 'pack damnit we must pack, screw dishes and laundry, PACK!'
With only a handful of boxes, this is a bit of a problem.
But again, the brain is giving me the finger and telling me to do it anyway.
And wouldn't you know it the first thing that comes to my mind to pack, is my books?
That's when the wacky nugget in my brain says 'EEEEEE the boxes we have are like so perfect for the books, cause they are like small and like totally perfect'.
That's when I toss my hair and do a perfect Clueless 'As if' response.
Remember that movie?? LOVE THAT MOVIE!
I'm a bit slap happy at the moment...can you tell?
I've had to tell that wacky nugget that once Jocelyn is down for a nap, I can get started on rearranging the office/shit dumping room so that it will be a useable work space. Then I can start packing up some of my precious books.
In the meantime I'm dancing around the house to my music and getting stuff done so I have less to worry about when I'm packing.
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