I Believe It’s A Conspiracy

I think all my possessions have conspired against me. Trying to pack to move seems like an impossible task. The more I pack…the more there is! I don’t know if there are enough boxes in the world to pack all our stuff. We might have to take down a couple more forests just to make the boxes. Good grief! And then there is the bubble wrap! I have to keep the children from trying to pop it….okay, so that is fun, but I need the wrap. Ugh! Will my breakables stay unbroken in this move? I’m scared. Too bad all our stuff isn’t made of unbreakable rubber—it would be a lot less stressful to pack. I wish that Scott could give me some knock out drugs that would have me asleep for um….a good 8-9 months. Then I could wake up and everything would be unpacked in our new house and life would be simple and uncomplicated, oh yes, and nothing would be broken or lost. Oh alright, so I’d like to live in a 1950’s sitcom. Of course, that would mean I’d have to clean the house in my heels and pearls….instead of my sweatpants and a T-shirt. Hmmm…….maybe life is better now.