Packing day. The day that everyone who ever plans to move again dreads.
Sometimes before I knew we were moving again, I would look around my apartment and laugh to myself thinking "ha-ha! we won't be dealing with all of this STUFF again for quite a while!" And somehow that would bring me some kind of temporary high or weird feeling of elation. Crazy, I know but the thing here is that Ryan and I have moved....3 times in three years and this will be our FOURTH time in three and a half years. That officially sucks.
So it's no wonder that today I kept the covers pulled up to my chin for as long as possible once I realized that it was, indeed a new day and that unfortunately Saturday this week didn't mean "yay! what do we want to do today??" but instead had a much more ominous outlook: Packing.
Ryan's mom is coming over to help which is really nice of her. She whipped us into shape when we first got here and were unpacking so it just seems pretty fitting to have her here on this end of it. The Departure end. The Packing End. The annoying, stupid, boring, tedious, takes-forever-i-just-want-it-to-be-over end.
So okay, as much as I would like to prolong this experience even more (okay and really I want to sneak away with the xbox and continue kicking cowboy ass in red dead redemption) i have to go and help my husband who has diligently begun the packing process already (he's so great).
At least he's fun to pack with. He just discovered a large drawing i had done that was being *stored* in our closet:
"look! you're outside!!!" hehehe he's so cute
okay, UGH, wish us luck. And please, if you're the praying kind, offer up a prayer to the Packing Gods on our behalf. We could seriously use it.