Holy mother of god I have a lot of crap.
As per my standard I did the lion's share of my packing last night, the eve before my move. The movers were to arrive at 9:00 Saturday morning, plenty of time! My last couple of moves everything was packed and ready in five hours.
Okay, I had A LOT of help on the last move since I was just two weeks after hernia repair surgery. Seems I forgot about that.
Dude, I was packing until 5:00 am. Yes I took a break or two. An hour to nap, an hour to watch Battlestar Galactica. But still.
My previous standard of 20 boxes? Pshaw. I filled up 47 boxes and hadn't even packed my books. The movers had to do that for me. (BTW cannot recommend Oz movers enough. Of all the companies I used they were by far the best - quick, efficient, respectful, professional. And they brought me a soda.)
Thighs accused me of being a pack rat the other day. I scoffed. Denied. Defended. Growing up my dad filled our one car garage with stuff, and it drove us all nuts. When I say filled, I mean really filled. As in no car ever entered, and there was just enough space for a walkway. The floor was filled to our shoulders and all shelves and wall space was packed. No way was I going to end up like that!
After packing it hit me though. Goddamn she's right, I am a total packrat. I have hair dye from 1998 in one of my storage containers. My god I need help. Argh!
The History Of Yoga
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