21 Days

I've got three weeks until we move out of our home and begin the summer of the Nomad.

The level of procrastination happening here has soared to new heights.  It doesn't help that Mr. Yoy skipped town for a week, so I don't really have anyone at home to judge me.  Except maybe Poodle Yoy.

I signed up for a three hour field day shift at Big E's school tomorrow morning just to avoid bubble wrapping not one, but two sets, of our Grandma's China.

What's so bad about field day you may wonder?

On the surface, nothing.  Except both my offspring will be out there and they are major sweaters.  My kids sweat in the winter.  In the cooler.  At Costco.  So you can only imagine what will go down on an 80 degree day.  They will be rubbing their sweaty, dirty, sticky hands and faces all over me.  Plus, Little E will probably attach himself to my leg and I'll have to walk around all morning like I've got some sort of awkward leg brace on.

The boys tried to help out with packing this afternoon, but really they just wanted to pop all the newly arrived bubble wrap.  They quickly got the boot from the dining room.

I asked them to go into their playroom and make a pile of toys and books that they had outgrown.

Yes, I hear you laughing.

And no, they couldn't find one thing they could part with.  Big E even cried when I merely suggested he hadn't played with his Mystery Machine in a while.  Ruh-roh, Shaggy!

I think what I'm really trying to say is I'm accepting volunteers.  Or at least someone to tell me what to do.  I'm so much better at that.  I'll ply you with alcohol, junk food, and endless hours of HGTV softly playing in the background.

I mean who doesn't enjoy an episode (or ten) of Fixer Upper?

Any takers?


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