One of the things that I love/hate about moving, is that while packing I spend time wasting reading old journals of mine. I found one from 2001-2003....boy oh boy! Glad to see that I came out of whatever phase I was in then! It was mortifying to read what I had wrote, and guys, I was seriously depressed or something. There was a whole lot of drunken scrawled "I HATE MY LIFE"'s and other such pleasantries. Sure things weren't the greatest, but really?
I've also realized that my packing style is much like an ADD chicken with it's head cut off. I will start in one room, and start packing books, then after one box of that is done, I head to the kitchen and pack a box of dishes, then to the bedroom to look in my closet, sigh a deep sigh and head back to the livingroom to pack books.
I'm starting to run out of boxes, and stamina....
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