Here I am in the second day of my weekend, and I've been attempting to pack. But I have one small dilemma; rather, two small dilemmas. The first is the fact that I am somewhat of a pack rat. It could be much worse, but it could also be a whole lot better. You see, when I move, I get to the point where I don't care what I'm packing or in which box it's going, so long as everything is packed. And when I reach that point, I just throw all the leftovers in a couple of boxes labeled "To be sorted." I did that when I moved two years ago, and in my closet I currently have a couple of boxes labeled "To be sorted." You guessed it: I never got around to unpacking them. Obviously, I didn't need the things in the boxes, so I should be able to get rid of it all, right? Wrong.

In going through these boxes, and through a couple more boxes in which I have stored old writings, photos and other memory-inducers, I found all sorts of treasures. Who wouldn't want an origami spider made of foil wrapping paper? All eight legs are still intact, too. And what about that little Radio Shack video game that required the player to run from a safe spot to a waiting helicopter, while dodging mounds of lava spewing out of a volcano? I believe it is circa 1988, and it brought back a whole flood of memories. If the battery was still good, I probably wouldn't have been able to let myself throw it away.

But I was productive. In going through the stuff in my closet, I managed to come out with two extra boxes. Of course, I now have things like an origami spider sitting on my desk, so I apparently managed to unpack while I thought I was packing. But then I came to the next dilemma: I need more boxes. Books are the one thing I like packing, so I started there. I filled two not-too-big boxes so that I could still probably manage to lift them with a crane, but I was far from being done. However, the only other boxes I have right now are some Depends boxes my roommate brought home from work. I don't care that the boxes once held adult diapers, because they're sturdy boxes, but they're too big for boooks. If I pack books in those boxes, not even a crane would be able to lift them.

So now I'm at the point where I can justify stopping all this packing/cleaning/sorting nonsense. "I don't have the right boxes, so I can't finish packing my books. I think I should go eat ice cream and watch a movie instead," I tell myself. I still have time, too. I'm moving in two weeks, so that's plenty of time, right? Well, not really. For 10 of the next 14 days, I will be gone for nearly 12 hours a day. That leaves four full days. At least half of one of those days will be spent helping a friend move. A full day will be spent in my moving, and I really should not be packing on the day that I'm moving.

Therefore, I have two days in which I can pack. And that, ladies and gentleman, is why I'm writing all this nonsense. It overwhelms me, it drives me wild, and I think I accidentally already packed some of my sanity up in one of those book boxes. However, that ice cream idea is sounding really good right now.

Ell"Tell me again why I am doing this? Oh, yeah, I like my new job well enough to justify moving there."myruh