Give a woman a home...for Christ's sake

I drove home with the windows down and let the damp air blow through my hair. I listened to “Give a Man a Home” about 600 times and surprisingly, I feel better. Not great, mind you…but better. A little bit more centered. A little bit more in tune. A little less like jumping off a bridge.

I even brought boxes home. Although, I haven’t the slightest idea where to start with this packing thing. I know what will happen. I will pack the boxes. Then tomorrow, I will need something that I packed and have to unpack again. I don’t know when or how to start this. You would think with my expert experience on moving, that I would have it down to a science. But let’s review, shall we?

Move # 1: I was moving out of my mom’s house, everything I had fit into one room so, it really wasn’t that hard to figure out.

Move # 2: I packed as much as I could stand to pack before moving day and then left to bring some things to a storage unit and when I came back, my apartment had been torn apart, cleaned and packed, all I had to do was load it up. Thanks to Superwoman.

Move # 3: Things were still packed, still in boxes. Moved them from storage to apartment.

Move # 4: We had two apartments for a month. Stuff was moved every day. Even with very little help and several bottles of vodka, we managed to do a splendid job.

Move # 5: Spliff had already moved, my stuff was minimal because our apartment was so small. Still took three weeks and now here I am.

None of my moves have been conventional. None of them have been this stressful. (Well, not in the way that this one is) So when in hell do I start packing. Really, there are only two rooms that will have to be packed…the rest will be out long before I am, I imagine. So, I am just trying to figure out what I don’t need for now and to get it out of my way. I love that I am going to be in Vegas for part of this, when I should be here doing something productive.

I am creature of habit, people! I don’t need this shit! I guess its “Sex and the City” time…oh, I mean packing time.