I'm writing this instead of packing...

...because I'm in denial frankly. I'm now off work until Monday when we move.

So I have three days to pack - that should be enough right?

I have promised myself I will not spend two days fannying around thereby ensuring I have to stay up until 3am on Monday morning, getting progressively more hysterical while throwing random crap in boxes.

However, I am a master procrastinator. A putter-offer. I'm a last-minute, deadline-driven, seat-of-my-pants kinda gal. So yeah - if you're awake at 3am Monday morning - think of me.

(Of course it doesn't help that the removal company have forgotten to deliver me any boxes today, so it's not completely my fault if I don't get up at the crack of dawn tomorrow and get to it.)

Are you bored yet? I am. I wish I could come up with amusing anecdotes about my moving travails but there really aren't any. So sorry. Although it has just occurred to me that I should probably hide any sex toys before the removal men arrive. That would be the last straw - removal men chortling on Monday morning when I've only had 4 hours sleep.

On a lighter note my husband sent me a picture text of the sign outside a coffee shop which said 'Hobbits drink free.' This is in reference to my observation that the older I get, the more body hair I seem to grow, particularly on hands and feet. He thinks the upside might be the free coffee.

Is this true for everyone? Are you growing hair where you never did before?

And just how far from your groin does a pubic hair have to grow before you're completely weirded out? (I'm thinking more than an inch.)

Although I'd take the extra hair as long as the spots stay away. I seem to have got over my outbreak stage. I still get the odd one or two but they are nothing compared to the multiple, cyst-like, mega-spots I was getting a few months ago. I guess my ovaries are getting ready to throw in the towel.

Although there's just enough endocrinal activity going on to give me a completely inappropriate interest in the masculine form. In other words I am still ogling men in a way I've NEVER done in my life before. And I'm sorry to say I'm ogling completely inappropriate men too. Men who are... let's just say - MUCH TOO YOUNG!

So there you have it. I'm a middle-aged, stressed-out, mildly spotty, hairy individual with an unhealthy obsession for the opposite sex.

And I'm moving. Did I mention that?

Winning The War....

...on stuff that is.

You wouldn't BELIEVE the amount of stuff we have thrown away/recycled/car-booted/charity-shopped.

I've now got a wardrobe where clothes actually hang down as opposed to the wardrobe I had before where the clothes didn't so much hang as hold themselves up via friction with their neighbours.

I have a loft that is still fairly full of boxes, however the boxes are sorted and labelled and only contain things I know I actually want.

The worst bit though? My underwear drawer. Truly shameful. Filled with old, discoloured, ill-fitting knickers, bras, socks and tights. But no more. Bring on the reality-show checker of underwear drawers! My drawers rule! Well, for now.

Anyway, so Monday is D-Day. Or rather M-day - Moving day. And we are moving to a flat which is roughly the same size as our house minus the loft. It does however have a very big garage which we are counting on being big enough to store all the loft/garage stuff that we own.

Thing 1 and Thing 2 are somewhat emotional about the whole thing which is tough to deal with. Even though we are not moving far they will lose the ability to walk out of the front door and find two or three people to play with in the immediate vicinity. And Thing 1 particularly, does get attached to things and he doesn't want to leave this house.

I meanwhile, swing between enormous optimism and stomach-churning anxiety over whether we are doing the right thing and choosing the right school.

Too late now though - we've exchanged contracts. So I'd better err on the side of optimism at this point!

So blogging has taken a back seat that's for sure. You should probably count yourself lucky if you're reading this as the only thing more boring than going through every single posession you own is blogging about going through every single posession you own.

And work is... well let's just say A BIT MANIC! I'm failing to see any humour in either situation to be honest so I've decided to keep quiet.

Hopefully, if I make it through the next ten days, normal transmission will resume.

With a sense of humour.

And, please God, broadband.