Well, I'm ALMOST packed. I know it's taking forever, but I'm going through a whole house and shed and attic and Marvin's stuff and besides, I usually get bored after an hour.
That bag is one final (maybe final?) bag of clothes to go to Goodwill, who I actually have not donated to that much, because what happened to all their drop boxes? I keep donating to this yellow drop box, and I have no idea what charity I'm helping. The Charity to Help Kill Baby Gorillas. Hey! Here are more clothes! Good luck with that!
The Ashley Wilkes is Hot Foundation
Friends of Gwynneth Paltrow
The Barfing, Yay! Group
Okay, I'm done.
Shelves in hallway.
Shelf above stove. When I was packing, I grabbed this old tin of hot chocolate from up there to throw it away, and it rattled. In 1812, Marvin put spare keys in there, and the cats' ID tags. This would have been good to know, say, four years ago.
You can tell what's important to me: salt, pepper and coffee. I like to add both to my coffee. Mmm-mmmm! I can describe this chicken in two words: mmm-mmmmm!
This is the second day in a row I've mentioned chicken. What is wrong with me?
Faithful Reader and Friend in Real Life Lilly came by yesterday and left me "some boxes" on my porch. When I came home for lunch, there were 39449393 boxes, neatly lying there. I wrote to thank her, and asked her, "If my dogs are home all day, why can't they pack? They're pack animals."
I loved myself so much for that line, I repeated it to the editor who sits next to me. "They'll only pack for you if they're Boxers," he said.
Really, we'll be here all week.
Ned is pretty much recovered from his illness, and we went out last night and got more newspapers so he and I could pack dishes. Somehow we got on the subject of that horrible song, The Boys Are Back in Town by Thin Lizzy. I hate that song.
"What boys?" I groused.
"The boys," said Ned. "They're back in town."
"Remember that time over at Janet's place?" I asked Ned, who said if his two moods are starving and I-may-have-eaten-too-much, my mood is I love myself. "Well, this chick got up and she slapped Janet's face."
"It's Johnny's place. Not Janet. ...Janet." Ned was all disgusted with me.
"It's Johnny? Seriously? My whole life I pictured a cat fight between two kind of trashy women." I Googled the lyrics with my phone. What the hell did we ever do before we could whip out our phones and Google everything? Did we all just keep arguing?
"Hunh. It's Johnny."
You go your whole life thinking something...
I'd better go to work.