Thursday afternoon~~
I hate moving. It's a horrible process. I am sure "Bad Mother's "entrance to Hell looks like a teenage son's room. I have found spiders, dust, dirt, and i must be a REALLY bad housekeeper, to sneeze and sneeze the way i am.
Now my references to the house looking like a tornado are just a joke; I am grimly piling boxes in the dining room, and i feel claustrophobic and jittery.
I don't want to do the garage sale, either....but, it will be gas money on the way down.
J.s room is done.....i cornered him like a rat, and made him choose what to take and what to donate and what to trash. In the midst of that, T. is going on the annual canoe/camping trip up north...and for the first time, didn't want Mom's help. He scowled and snorted and managed to get himself together, then apologised for his surly behavior, and off he went.
Me, kneedeep in Bad Mother's hell, got a phone call....The gastank on his Jimmy was leaking....We rescued him, transferred his stuff to his buddy's car, and back to packing i went.
Tomorrow afternoon, J and T.'s girlfriend will go up to the campsite...and i will be BLISSFULLY alone....I don't know if i can stand it.!!!! There will definately be some naked dancing to Barry White, or, at the very least, more boxes packed in peace, and a pizza. Later.

t