30 seconds and counting....

Ok so, excuse the Pet Shop Boys reference but I have listening to them while I pack. I have loved them since elementary school. Yes, this ages me. I accept it. I <3 PSB.

This is my room at this very moment.

Yes, it's a mess. Utter chaos. Yes, that's an ocean mural on the wall. I painted it, I never completed it however. Lucky for you, the unfinished part isn't in the pic!

This is my soap cabinet, or what's left of the stuff in it.

The soap cabinet is one of those unattractive gray things you find at Home Depot. It won't match anything in our apartment. It will be an eyesore. It will take up too much room in the kitchen, assuming it fits there in the first place. But it holds all of my soaping junk. (Or most of it. Shhhh, don't tell shmoo!)

Behold! There is one shelf completely empty in it! (See honey, I AM packing.)

And then there is the scrapbooking stuff.

Ok so there are board games as well... But all that stuff in the chair, that's scraping stuff! And I must do something with it... tonight! (or tomorrow.) Also, please note the wickeryness of the furniture. I have lots of wicker. Wicker couch, love seat, coffee table, end tables, matching chair, 2 non matching wicker chairs. Wicker and glass, everywhere you turn. Wicker dining room set. Wicker hampers for dirty clothes. Wicker and cloth baskets to store stuff in. I am inundated by wicker. Copius amounts of wicker. Please note: Shmoo hates wicker. Move along people, nothing to see here. Nope, not at all.

And THIS! This is the furby that won't stop talking because I picked it up. I put it in a dark box and it talked all afternoon. I took it out to take out its battery but it appears I have already packed the screwdriver I need to do this. It's a conundrum. And of course, now that it's out of the box, it's nice and quiet. Pehaps I will just leave it here.

And now, we come to my princess. My light. My baby. Yes, I KNOW she's just a dog. But you try telling HER that.

Seen here in her natural habitat. The Daisy looks sweet and sleepy, but be warned, she is guarding a chew bone and will threaten to stike viciously at any other predators who might come into her area. (Including me, her mother, who gave her the damn bone 10 minutes ago. She has never seen me eat one of these nasty things (because I haven't!). She knows that I don't want them. She even brings them to me to help her hide them for later. WHY she insists on trying to make me think she MIGHT bite me, I'll never know.)

And for your viewing pleasure, a special guest tonight. He will most likely feature in future episodes, as I relate the saga of Daisy and Bri, and their adjustment to living together. Ladies and Gentlemen! I present! Briareos!

Seen here, in footage filmed on the dangerous bedroom plains, deep in the apartment! Note the way he plays with his Daddy's shmoo con badge. Note the blackness of his pelt. Indeed, he is an exotic wild animal.

Ok, he's not. He's a sweet, shy, teddy bear of a cat. He associates me with drugs. I fed him tons of catnip when I was up to make sure he liked me. I think he was pissed cause I didn't bring him cheetos to go with.

Bri is twice the size of Daisy, but he's a lot shyer than she is too. We are worried about how they will adapt to each other. And while my brain thinks it will be fine, there is a part of me (my left pinky?) that is worried still. However, Daisy did really well with my Aunt's cat last night, when we were up to visit and this has indeed given the worried left pinky hope. As long as Bri doesn't freak out and run (he will) then things will be fine (they won't be).

Alright, that's it. I am tired and a bit punchy at this point and my packing break is over. Please excuse any grammar and typo/spelling errors as I haven't bothered to spell check this saga of an entry. Also, needless to say, there is no knitting to report on. Cardboard boxes however, I could give a full report. But who wants to know about boxes?