FRAGILE: It Must Be French

I'm surrounded by packed boxes, large yellow garbage bags filled with junk I'm not taking with me to the new house.

I'm nowhere close to being finished.

For one thing, I've run out of boxes. I think I am going to have to go to the house and unpack some more so I have more empty boxes to use, all without actually having to buy more for tomorrow.

I packed away all my dishes today. Finally, a good use for The Star. I probably went through 4 newspapers just wrapping anything fragile. My hands black from all the ink. I hate having dirty hands, so it drove me nuts and I had to go wash them every time I looked at them. I tried not to look at them as I was packing.

I had to venture into the Bowels of Hell (Walmart) to get more packing tape. I stopped and picked up a chicken dinner because I packed all I needed to cook with. Naturally, everyone else was at Walmart, and they all converged at the isle where all the holiday stuff is marked down. Unfortunately, the packing tape was next to that isle.

Tonight, I have to dismantle the daybed in the spare room. Try to toss as much crap into yellow garbage bags. Unplug the television from all the other electrical stuff it's plugged into. I haven't decided if I am going to make it a late night, or early morning. The movers should be here between 11am and 1pm.

I've marked every box with breakable stuff FRAGILE in red ink. I hope the movers see it. I hope the movers can read. I would be very sad if any of my Fiestaware was broken.

I also tried to get my Internet service switched over to the house...which proves to be as complicated as brain surgery. Why can't the website just have a simple method for doing it, rather than spend 30 minutes searching the site for a phone number to just call. Then, everything is automated when you call so you don't get to speak to a live person.

I'm done bitching. Time to get back to work.