|Just the tip of the cardboard iceberg...|
Monday, March 12, 2012
I am getting entirely too efficient at packing. I solemnly swear not to move again unless I am moving into a home in Palmer Lake that has a climbing wall for my monkeys, a custom kitchen for me, and a yard for the critters that cleans itself.
Funny how everything fits so neatly in boxes when you do it enough times. I am reminded of a little wooden game that my Mema had years ago. Way before Jenga, possibly before the wheel was created, it was a little wooden box game that had pieces that fit perfectly together if you practiced it enough.
I have definitely practiced it enough. All of the pieces are fitting perfectly together. And after next week, I. Do. Not. Want. To. Play. Anymore. No more boxes, no more fitting all of the pieces neatly together, only to shake them up and do it again.
If you cannot see it, I really hate the boxes. And I need a drill. That didn't fit in Mema's game but it is part of this one. I need a stupid stinking drill.
Whore. This word has so much weight, but only if we allow it. A bit of a backstory here. Actually two backstories. The first one involv...