packing rituals

When I pack for a trip I use an inside to outside principle: toothbrush, toothpaste, soap, shampoo, conditioner, hairbrush, lotion, underwear, socks, shirts, pants, skirts ... you get the drill.

Packing for the move is not going by such principles. It is all chaos. I haven't labelled the boxes as I pack them. Which is a recipe for disaster or the christmas day/reunited effect - "Oh wow, I've been looking for this for days. Oh wow. I love this sweater."

I sold all my mirrors. I can inspect my hair in the bathroom mirror but without a full-length I am dressing myself blindly. No way to tell if this dress makes me look fat.

I sold the dresser, I sold the shelves. So all that crap is now strewn across the floors and my bed. *what do I do about the bed?*

There are no lamps at My Guy's place and the two overhead lights are busted (one blew last night). So when I retreat to his air conditioned oasis I am sitting in the dark.

A red marker exploded in one of my boxes and I did not realize this until I looked in the (bathroom) mirror to find that I had three HUGE red streaks across my face! The forehead, the chin, and the side of my nose. I could not find rubbing alcohol, toner, or a cotton ball. Soap was not cutting it. I went to the grocery store like this because I have packed all the food. and couldn't figure out why some people were smiling at me and others were averting their eyes. In my preoccupied state I had forgotten about it until I got a reminder in the rearview. Fortunately, I sweated it off while packing/sorting/cleaning. *I know, I know ... ewww.*

I cannot find band-aids or zit cream. I have no socks because I packed them. I cannot find the lyrics to a song I decided today that it would be great to record this Friday. All I remember is:

"Everybody likes to think that they have all the answers,
They'd be more convincing as a troupe of belly dancers."

And my mantra is: don't lose the keys, don't lose the keys.

Ha!