I Hate Moving

I'm supposed to be packing and sorting and organizing and labeling and cleaning and MOVING and all I can think to do is transfer the messes from one room to another. This is not helping anyone.

Yesterday I moved everything into Eric's music room. At the time, I felt this was a brilliant idea. I was concentrating the mess to one place and streamlining my efforts. Funny how it mostly served to put me in a delusional state of mind, in which I felt that all the work was done, because, well, I don't see it.

Our bedroom is clutter free and totally ready for the move. Can you guess which room I am sitting in right now, feeling completely justified in writing a blog instead of taping boxes?

I think I'm just overwhelmed right now. We have to be out of here on the 15th, which means we have to move all of our stuff the week before so that we can come back and clean everything and have the carpets steamed and fix that hole in the wall and put up new blinds where L- tore them down and ..... ugh, see? I'm overwhelmed just writing about it.

It's times like now that I really hate renting. If this was my house, I could have just let it go to pot and get all cluttered up and I wouldn't even have to think twice about it. Ah, the life....

Hmmm... I think I'll go make sure I didn't accidentally packed up my sanity with the dishware.