You know what's fun? ANYTHING BUT PACKING.
Dudes, in putting all of your life in small boxes you realize just how much useless shit you own. Phone bills from 2002? Don't mind if I do! A wallet I was given when I was 19? Yeah, it makes logical sense to keep that in a drawer.
And this is my life. I go to work, I go home, I pack. I then fall into bed, exhausted and covered in dust. Hence my silence, because yeah, packing? Not that exciting. It doesn't compel the words and the writing on the internet. It does however make me want to drink straight out of the bottle and wonder what the fuck I'm doing with my life. But then I chant my new calming mantra of 'central air' and it soothes my soul. That could also be the wine, but whatever.
Thus, until I move expect profanity laden posts that may solely be the word fuck repeated over and over again. They may also be drunken ramblings. So... you know, pretty much status quo around here.