Wednesday, February 04, 2009

one of the best benefits my husband's employer offers is packing service. It's kind of 1000% awesome to not have to worry about finding boxes and spending weeks boxing up stuff you probably won't need until after you're there (also, I'm a terrible labeler - I'll label the first few boxes "kitchen stuff", "linens", "books", but then after that, I just start labeling boxes "stuff" and "other stuff" - which is SO helpful when we get to the new place).

The packers are here today and my house is now a sea of cardboard boxes - clean, uniform, well-labeled boxes - which is cool, But it's also kind of weird. For one thing, I feel guilty about sitting here typing away on my laptop with my grossly swollen leg propped up on the coffee table while these guys are working. For another thing, it's just weird to see strangers touching my stuff, like they're just throwing my books into boxes, as though they're just... stuff, not my books that I love. And for another thing, their truck is blocking my driveway, so I can't even go anywhere (yes, I could probably ask them to move, but they seem to be in a pretty good rhythm, and 200 times faster than the crappy ladies who packed out crap in Savannah) And for another thing, I really have to pee, but there's either guys in the bathroom, or right outside of it and I don't want them to have to hear me pee (neurotic much? Yeah, apparently).

~~~

On a not at all related note - today is noteworthy because it's nearly noon and I have no significant injuries to report - yay! (to recap: Monday, I sprained the hell out of my ankle and yesterday, I almost cut off the tip of my thumb)