The Saga - Part I

Soooo, I returned from a weekend of nonstop wine, giggles, and girl talk, in short - pure, unadulterated awesome, to the reality of a full house that needed to be stuffed into boxes and moved a quarter of a mile. I started off the way that I always do - intent on purging, donating, labeling, categorizing, and organizing all of my possessions. 

 

{books-alphabetized and boxed}

By the third day of packing, all semblance of a system, or logic for that matter, has deserted me. By day four, I am shoving stuff wherever it will fit. Now, from past experience, I have learned that this style of packing can lead to catastrophe on the other end of the move when, for example, the scissors I need to open all of the boxes are not in the box labeled Desk, but rather, are inexplicably shoved in the box labeled Scrapbooks - Guest Room. To avoid a repeat of that exercise in frustration, I tend to go overboard in the labeling arena.

 

{Ok, both kitchen related. Logic still somewhat intact.}

 

 {Um. Just... What?}

{Red Sox guy and Snowball are super tight now.}

{Despite his questionable packing and being labeled "fragile-ish," Red Sox guy made it out alive.}

It is now 12:30 and way past my bedtime, so the rest of the moving saga (the really ridiculous part wherein we end up renting two apartments at once and narrowly avoid moving into a soul-crushing apartment bordering the Canyon of Despair) will have to wait until later.

 {The Canyon of Despair}