cLuttEr

I have been listening to music, reminiscing about old songs, and i've been singing out loud.
I've been looking at various photos, i've been taking photos, and i've had photos taken of myself.
I have been reading random musings, i've been intrigued by so many stories, yet i haven't written much lately... anything of substance, anyway.
I've been daydreaming about decorating, and i've been looking up furniture and decor ideas on the world wide web.
I've been drinking a lot of wine, savoring my food, and appreciating conversation.

I am absolutely living.
This is my life.

I have been doing everything i've been wanting to do. Everything at my own will. I come and go as i please, no obligations and no guilt.
This is how it should be and this is how it is.

Then again, preoccupying myself with life is a great way to distract me from the task at hand that just sits there and waits.
Packing. I really need to get at it.
It's just that when i look at all the things i have to sort out and go through, and all the boxes that i need to fill... i am overwhelmed with exhaustion that hasn't even started yet. Do i really have this much to bring? Do i really have to sort all this out now? Do i really have to do this?
If i could magically transport all my belongings from Point A to Point B it would make my life just that much better.
My procrastinating ass keeps telling me that i'll start tomorrow.
The thought of having to do it gives me anxiety attacks.

I remember having to pack for Ian. All those boxes. All of his things. All by myself.

I'm packing up 10 years of my life and other miscellaneous nonsense i brought down with me to begin with. I'm packing up my 5 year old's 5 years of life and all the toys that he's attached to that belonged to me, my brothers and my sister- and also his own. I am re-packing Ian's boxes that i dug through and taking some of his things with us as well.

It's time. My life needs to go in a box sometime this week.