Moving is the worst. But after procrastinating for the last month I seriously needed to man up and get packing. Hence my spending the better portion of tonight sorting though sh*t I dragged home from Edmonton and then bizarrely moved into the apartment... WTF? Why do I still have a sticker book in my possession?!

I'm beyond lucky in that Fingers and BSB are quasi-sort of-kinda moving themselves, so we're jointly renting a truck together on Sunday to do the actually shipping and/or receiving of goodies. Scratch "rent a UHaul" off my to-do list--check! Unfortunately that still leaves me with sorting, filling garbage bags, throwing out, weeding out, boxing up, and shuttling. And it's possible these last six tasks are the worst tasks.

After tonight's escapades and the subsequent hives (from all the dust and cat hair behind the "relocating" furniture...) the idea of spending one of the last glorious summer Saturdays indoors like one of those people on the hoarding shows, shuffling between rooms through my piled belongings, is just plain gross. And I don't have music because I've already packed the radio *sad face*

I'm not all about asking friends for help, either. That's not what this post is about. Please don't think this is my passive aggressive way of asking you to Sherpa my winter clothes Tupperware or church sale paintings. Because I won't help you when you move. Sorry hooker, but that's how I role. Unfortunately, the only other person who potentially benefits from this move (besides myself and Sir Handsome-a-lot, Bert) is away for work (aptly timed...) So it looks like I'm doomed to a weekend of packing tape and newspaper cuts. Aces.

If you have a tiny violin, feel free to play it now.