Tuesday, July 7, 2009

It's in the basement...

And it calls me. Every stinkin' day. It is scary. It is daunting. It is

The Pile O' Boxes.

In the words of this here dog...

I hate packing. No, really, I HATE it. I hate it like poison. Like a trip to the dentist or the gyno. Actually, I would rather take a trip to the dentist and gyno on the same day rather than pack. I would rather my dentist give me a gyno exam than pack.

I have moved so stinking often, and I am TARRED of it. Yes, TARRED. If you are from the south, that made perfect sense. If you are not, well, I am sorry for you in so many ways, but that is beside the point right now.

Anyhoo... I may just torch everything rather than move it. Maybe a big Woodmont bonfire. Get blazing drunk and roast marshmallows over piles of undies and knicknacks. Sounds good to me. You are all invited. You have to help carry the crap outside, though. That is only fair.

Then again, if I burn it all, I will just have to replace it. That may put big Dave over the edge. So, I guess I am back to packing. Damn.


Schmoochiepoo said...

GREAT Staples boxes! First thing I looked at.

Be thankfull your crap is in boxes at least, mine is jammed in various closets ready to explode out the second the door is opened.

Tarred.. I got it and I'm as far north as you can get. :)

Sasha said...

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