Packing It In

We're in Dante's ninth level of hell right now - aka "Packing". The big moving day is this Saturday, which is exciting and fabulous, don't get me wrong. But the interim period is sucking ass. It's a myriad of trips to the Goodwill to drop off crap, intermixed with endless sorting and the all-expense-paid trip down Memory Lane. I found some folders from high school and it wasn't pretty, people. Depressingly bad poems from a 15-year-old written while listening to the Cure's Pornography just helps you to imagine how much fun we were having at my house during my teen years. (I'd include a sample here, but I don't want you to run out and slice your wrists to ribbons, or worse, die laughing.)

The bottom line is that all this torture will be worth it...because after the moving and packing/unpacking is over, we will be in our lovely new home. At which point, I will fix myself a double vodka tonic and take a few muscle relaxers like the sister in "Sixteen Candles". (Ha, just kidding there...I don't actually have any muscle relaxers. Do you?)