The boxes, and the stuff, and the dust. And the cat, because mommy’s packing again god help us now I must run around like an idiot and knock things over and bash into walls.
When I collapse in front of the tv for a break she jumps on my stomach and wriggles and flumps and purrs and digs her toes in until she finds just the right position, which looks like every position she just tried, whatever…. and then I have to dislodge her to go pee because she just poked my bladder eighty times in a row. Rinse, repeat. Clingy idiot. I guess she thinks I’m going to leave her behind? Like I ever did that, however tempted I might be.
I am barely getting started and already I have visions of backing the Uhaul up to a cliff and shoving everything out. BLEAH. Anyone want a metric ton of books?
