Packing Sucks

I hate packing. If there is a hell, this is it for me- a land of boxes- deconstructed boxes, empty boxes, all waiting to be taped together and filled with dumb worthless crap. I mean, do I really need issues of the New Yorker circa 2003??? REALLY? Well, they've made the cut. Someone come save me.

Plus, I have this nagging feeling that this is all totally pointless: what if I just end up coming back after 6 months? I was talking to Solmaz the other day (my crazy bff back from jr. high who lives in NYC but is also moving home next month) and we contemplated sharing storage here together as a "back-up plan."

In the end, we decided against it, as I think we really need to make a concerted effort to start a new life in the Bay Area. Note my shameless optimism here- BARF.

But god, the thought of packing all of this shit up, loading it all into a car, driving to FedEx and getting it all shipped off for hundreds of dollars- well, quite frankly NOT GOING ANYWHERE sounds like the best idea right about now.

Note to self: you gotta be out of here by Friday so STOP BLOGGING.