Right now I'm supposed to be packing for our big move, not blogging about packing (or about not packing). I do believe that packing is my least favorite activity of all time. I would rather go to the dentist, clean my bathtub, probably even take a horrible test, than pack and move.
Would you have more sympathy if I told you that yesterday I figured out that I haven't lived in the same place for more than 14 months for ELEVEN YEARS? ELEVEN. That's since 1998, internet friends. Last time I called home home for any reasonable amount of time I was taking the SATs and I had a curfew.
Just to make matters worse, we've been forced to move our closing date back to June 25th, due to a whole bunch of annoying mortgage/appraisal/contracting/blahblahblah issues. We're heading out of town for a week on the 26th, and our lease ends on the 30th. So yes, that gives us 24 hours to get all of our crap from one place to the other.
Apologies for the post full of complaints. In other news, my hairdresser quite liberally blonde-i-fied me this morning, and I'm feeling both less intelligent and more fun as a result :)
Check me (and my terrible self-portrait taking-skills) out:
Have a fabulous weekend, everyone!