I am tired. My tired is tired. And my overwhelm is through the roof. I’m packing up my place. I’m packing my luggage to go visit my mom, my Sun, my #NC family, including a little babygirl who somehow stole my heart and I don’t want to take it back, and her mommies that always bring me joy and laughter (and bad games of #Jenga). I’m packing for Spain. I’m packing up clothes to donate. I’m packing the items and clothes I’ll need easy access to between Spain and my next trip. Like I said, I’m tired.
Thankfully, I have Love and some amazing friends that have been assisting me so that I don’t go bonkers (or end up crying at 2 am on their porch because I can’t handle the pressure of finding the sticky part of the tape that always gets stuck when it’s time to close the next box). Whatever the reason, I have a pretty awesome #framily that make life better in the midst of this chaos.
Am I the only one who hates packing? Like, do you wish you could just skip that part and go right to your vacation, or move, or planet run-away? Raise your hand if you like packing. Readers, these are the people (with their hands raised) we will not speak to for the next three days.
I want everything to just show up wherever I plan to show up and return to wherever I plan to return. This is too much. One day when I get rich and famous, I’m going to hire a personal packer. And a shoe-buyer. And a person to adjust the air conditioner or heater in the middle of the night (air conditioner and heater middle of the night adjuster…it’s a thing. Trust me.). And a masseuse to relax my dog after her walks. I’m tired.