I swear to effing God, I feel like Dorothy in Oz, except with much bigger feet and carrying a much bigger load than a Toto-filled basket.
I'm all like, "There's no place like home! There's no place like home!".... heels crashing together, red sequins everywhere as they fly off the shoes and combust into tiny little sparkly flames. Toto's fucking FREAKING out in the corner, after having been dumped out of his basket because Momma needs the space for her computer cord, phone charger, camera charger, wireless adapter, travel mouse and other assorted things she spent hours trying to gather together.
I've been packing for, like three hours now, and it seems that I pack the same amount of stuff if I go away for a week or two months. Four pairs of jeans, t-shirts, sweaters, a few fabulous things, some comfy things. And honestly, I don't really care what I pack, except it's got to cover painting a house, 20 degree weather, 80 degree weather, Christmas, New Year's and hiking a variety of hills. No pressure.
Home! Home! Home!!!!!!! (crash clack YOWL! splat) Oh crap, I squished the damn yappy dog between my giant heels.
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