Fact: I have not slept in the same bed for a full week-straight in the past three years.
Don’t you even dare try doing that math in your head.
At this point, I figure it’s no small wonder that I’m anxious about moving. I want to have all of my things appear at Marcus’, be able to organize them, and be done with the whole ordeal. At which point, I will take up hobbies with the amount of extra time I’ll have with all of the not-packing and not-driving from place-to-place.
I CANNOT WAIT.
For the past week or so, every time I go to Marcus’, I’ve been trying to bring a bag of somethings over. The first round was books and magazines, the second was all of my sweatshirts.
Today? The only thing I had on my mind was the chocolate chip ice cream and the bag of chicken breasts in my freezer.
I tried to rationalize not-moving them to his place tonight.
The Logical Reasons for Not Moving Them: You know, because of the fact that I had no intention of eating either in the immediate future. Or because it would be easier to move the contents of my fridge and pantry all at once. And, because I still have the entirety of my wardrobe and bathroom to move as well.
But I just.couldn’t.leave.them.
I would have been beside myself with worry.
Because I NEEDED them.
So I caved and brought them along.
I know, I know. You’re all astonished by my natural talents for homemaking.
I call it progress.