Paaaaaanic

I only have a minute to write this, so forgive me if it’s not edited properly (or at all). I’m trying to pack for a week in Florida (I know, poor me), but it’s extremely frustrating trying to do so with a three-year old “helping”- and by helping, I mean tossing stacks of clean clothes all over my bedroom, making forts in them, and then running up and down the hall, yelling, when his brother’s trying to sleep.

I’ve also been trying to get the house really clean, because I don’t want to come home to more of a mess than I have to. It seems, though, that every tie I get an area tidy, there are these people following me around, messing it up again. They’re warriors of chaos, my boys are.

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Now that Simon’s in bed, I’m hoping to make some progress. As usual, I’m completely paranoid about forgetting something important. It’s a 3-hour drive to the airport, so if I forget something, there’s no coming back for it. I’ve got our birth certificated and my photo ID… my medications… stuff for the boys to do on the plane (I hope)… clothes… shoes… Christmas presents for the in-laws…

I have to get the house ready for the cats, too. A neighbour is coming in to feed them while we’re gone, but I’m not asking him to clean out the litter box, so I’m setting up a couple of aluminum pans of litter in the bathroom in garmage bags; when the first one is full, he can tie it up and open the next one. I’ve got big bowls out for food and water, but I can’t fill those until Hurricane Ike is out of the way tomorrow.

I gotta go. Merry Christmas, everybody!

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