Between now and Tuesday:
- umpteen hours of work (no. srsly, I think I live here right now)
- fifty trillion more hours of packing, if packing = throwing things in boxes
- last minute freak outs about funding and letters of comfort etc
- a gazillion emails to lawyers and the bank
- purchase of a new shower curtain (why am I obsessed with this? I really don't know, but there it is)
- find a fridge, buy a washing machine
- pick up beds
- ditch husband to move and arrange cleaners etc while I continue working
- finalise insurance following electrician's visit
- settle the purchase and take on the largest debt known to man (it feels like)
- find the photo albums (where the fuck are the photo albums?!)
- locate SIL's couch
- wash the god damn sheets so we have something nice to crawl into on Tuesday night. Every other set is packed and cradling glassware etc
- etc
- etc
- etc
- blah blah blah
Hold me?
Throwing things in boxes *definitely* counts as packing. It'll be over soon! x
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