07-23-2001 - 6:25 p.m.
Closets throw open. Bookshelves vacant.
Half my stuff in boxes. The other half all over the floor. A helpful toddler emptying or repacking anything not taped closed. He's currently standing in his toybox, tossing everything out and then pulling it back in.
The house smells like dust and carboard.
The dog's trying to hide under the sofa. Only his nose fits.
The toddler wants to push over a stack of boxes. Of course, he picks the ones marked "fragile."
Trash cans are full of Ukrop's deli and Chick-Fil-a bags, since the fridge is empty of everything except milk, juice, a jar of peaches and four gallons of ice cream.
Miles to go before I put up my feet...
