Old cheese. I'm supposed to be packing, and it stinks, because I don't want to pack anymore. No more boxes. No more "what's under the dresser?" No more clutter and odds and ends, no more oddities or "what are these?"
I am really tired of people telling us we have a lot of stuff. They say it with a hint of alarm, or maybe I am only hearing judgement in their tone. Okay, yes, we have a lot of stuff. We have clothes and food, and toys and books for 6 people. Six people! Compare six people's needs and interests with two or four people; these things can really add up. We have papers and supplies enough for homeschooling three grades. We have suitcases for our trips to see faraway grandmas and grandpas. We have fingerpaints, sidewalk chalk, a tent, two butterfly nets, three sleeping bags and a piano. I gave a way the extra Crockpot. Max sold his Hot Wheels. The crib is going and so are the back issues of Oprah. I will not buy another pencil or Crayola, or stickers, candles, Duplos, harmonicas, plastic pools or Easter baskets ever again. Honest.
I do have a point to make, but I am begininng to suspect that I am mostly trying to avoid packing. Ugh. I just wanna go home.