Higitus figitus

The husband has had an extremely busy week at work, with long hours (last night he got home at 1:30 a.m. after a floor debate that lasted into the morning) and not much time or energy for anything else. This means that packing the shoebox has been up to me and while this truly isn’t a problem–I’m pregnant, not disabled–I do wish that Merlin was here to help. Hockety pockety.

Fortunately a lot of our boxes are still packed and stacked in the furnace room, which has doubled as the husband’s closet and tripled as off-season storage while we have lived here. Unfortunately in the last six months no fewer than seven utility/service/repair/handymen have come and gone from that room to fix anything and everything, so what used to be a carefully stacked and somewhat arranged set of boxes is now a haphazard leaning tower of cardboard and flimsy wire shelving.

Even more unfortunately, more for my attention span than anything else, there is a lot in those boxes that we have lived comfortably without for some months now, and, you guessed it, it’s not all coming to the new condo.

One thing at a time though. We have the shoebox until the end of the month, so there’s no need to box or donate everything before our mini U-haul arrives in the morning to carry our mattresses and my dresser to the new place. The priorities are packed and stacked neatly in a shoebox corner, since as Merlin says, “Books are always first, you know.”

And the sugar bowl is still sitting on a kitchen shelf, that pushy little bugger.


Shout at me.

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