Packing up

This is what our week is supposed to look like so far. But if we’re telling the truth around here, which we are, then we would know that our week actually consist of getting home and almost falling asleep on the couch, and then working really really hard to peel ourselves off of said couch in order to pack those thingies up there, but only to realize that it’s an impossible feat. Then about an hour later, I, the freaker outer, proceed to freak out about all of the things that are left to pack, and make hubby and myself pack a few out of obligation to said boxes, yes, I feel obligation to inanimate objects often. {I’m still sad my dear DVD player of only a few months}
And I even go as far as to instagram a picture of the boxes so that I’ll feel even more productive. But I’m not. We’re not. So tonight, boxes, it’s me and you suckers. No more packing intermissions via a two-hour movie and then it’s 11pm. No more “quick” snack breaks in which we become enamored with the Laker game and fall asleep on the couch. No I say! You are to be packed and I will pack you!
Eh-em. Please pray for us, people.

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