You know what sucks?
I would rather go for a gynecological exam than pack one more box.
SO. MUCH. STUFF.
SO. MANY. BOXES.
It’s staggering! We’re a family of five and it’s the children who have the most junk. With their stuffed animals and Legos and stacks of Pokemon cards and books and markers and art work. They could fill three houses with all their swag.
I feel like I’ve been purging this house for weeks. We’ve donated and found new homes for countless amounts of crapola and yet we still have so much. It’s total insanity.
And you know what’s funny? All this work and we’re only moving ten minutes away! The thought of having to move my family out of the country makes me nauseous. How does a person do that without having a complete psychotic break?
To say that I’m feeling a tad stressed about getting everything done on time would be a huge understatement. Whenever I’m feeling overwhelmed about something, my body screams at me to curl up in the fetal position and sleep.
Beautiful sleep, where I can forget all about my troubles and dream of wondrous things like crime fighting cats or dancing sharks.
My bed’s been peer pressuring me to get all cozy in it today, but I’ve managed to stay strong and ignore its promises of sweet, snugly slumber. I have things to do bed! Stop tempting me!
I keep reminding myself that this will all be over in a few days.
Before I know it, I’ll be in my new home. All this packing stress will be but a distant memory…
Although, this time next week I’ll be smack dab in the middle of…
This will be my fifth move in ten years. You would think I would be a total pro by now.
I really should go and do more packing…more organization…more purging of crapola…
But instead I’ll write a haiku.
Why a haiku?
Because writing a haiku is more productive than just sitting here and staring at my computer screen, thinking about all that needs to get done.
AND because I’m awesome at procrastinating.
Here is my haiku…
Do not want to pack.
Caught in a lazy attack.
I think I’ll write another…
My cat wears a tie.
My cat makes a mean stir fry.
My cat is so fly.
I just realized that I would rather count syllables than pack.