It's the night I'm supposed to start packing and instead I am sitting in bed, sulking.

Moving makes me so crabby.

I am by nature very slow and as much as I don't want to be that person, I'm deeply rooted in daily habits.  I go to the same gas stations, drive miles out of my way to the grocery stores I've always gone to, my bank, the right Panera.  Moving takes me out of my routine and plops me into a new one and as much as I love new things, I also desperately love old ones.

Also, packing just isn't fun when it's not for a trip.  My whole life?  In boxes.  And, I know what happens to me when I pack.  I get convicted, feel like a terrible person and give half of my things away.  I turn into a crazy minimalist for a week and then I realize that I really do need more than three shirts and a pair of shoes.

Darn it.

So, on the positive side.

I am moving towards the man I love.  Also, I just had my first shower and I have lots of lovely little things now.  I do need to cut my closet down.  And as soon as I'm done, I'll have time to visit all of those places I love before I leave.

I'm turning Shakira Pandora on.  And these hips won't lie.