...HA! I say I am taking a break from packing, truth is I haven't even started yet. Well, I've been out to the garage to get the boxes, brought some in, killed a spider and taped the first box together. Now I'm procrastinating and glaring at the box. I hate packing. I hate it! I hate moving full stop. But I am consoling myself with the thought that unless something changes drastically in the next few years this is the last time I will be moving for a very long time.
The dreams are back, last night I was telling people about the baby. I suppose it was only a matter of time before my desires made their way into my dreams. Just wish I didn't have to keep waking up from them.
I'm wavering on the edge of going back on weight Watchers, I'm getting to the point that made me do it last time, but with my head being a mess I tend to find myself reaching for chocolate rather than staying on the wagon. I know that as soon as I start I'll be able to stick to it, but the first week is always the hardest. I have a wedding in five weeks that will involve seeing a lot of people I went to uni with and having lots of pictures taken, so I'm going to try and make today my last day of gluttony.
Right, back to the packing I suppose. My books will not pack themselves into boxes *sob*. Until next time, answer me this. What, exactly, is the function of a rubber duck?
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