You gotta move

Nothing makes me hate myself quite like moving does. Why do I have so much crap? And why can't I bring myself to get rid of it? Every time I move I swear that from now on, in the new life I'm about to move to, I'll be better about acquiring things. I think I have gotten a little better. I acquire less than I used to, but still too much.

Anyway, I wasn't even planning on packing today. I was home this afternoon doing laundry and watching the Spain-Saudi Arabia game, and then I was gonna go in to my office to use the internet. But I couldn't find my office key. Before I started freaking out about it I realized that I'd probably put it in the wash, and I was right. But right after I had finished my laundry, I started the washing machine again with nothing in it to try and clean out the soap dispenser. (Admit it, you're fascinated by all this.) Once you start my washing machine the door locks, so my office key was stuck in the washing machine and I had some time to kill. That's when I started packing.

The bigger of my two suitcases is now bursting at the seams, and getting it to my office (where it will live for the next four months while I travel) is gonna be a really sweaty job. And I still have almost all of my shoes, some clothes, hand bags/purses, and all my office stuff to try and shove into my smaller suitcase. It's not gonna work. I knew it wasn't gonna work; my stuff didn't fit in two suitcases when I came here, and I have more stuff now not less. Ugh. I hate moving. I hate it I hate it I hate it I hate it I hate it. Okay, I feel a little better now.