My bags are packed and I'm ready to go...

When it comes to packing, I tend to be pretty prepared (read: psychotic). I get panicked if I don't have a handle on things days in advance. For example, my freshman year of college, I moved into the dorms Sept. 25, yet packed at the end of July. It led to two full months of me digging through boxes. But man! I would have been ready to go at any minute.

I shouldn't have been shocked when I woke up Tuesday morning and realized I'd already packed (and loaded into the Jeep) all of my tights. Along with my TV remotes (no Today show!?). You see, I am moving this weekend. And therefore, I felt the need to pack the majority of my apartment Monday night. Why I feel more comfortable living among a jungle of boxes than I do packing Thursday and Friday night, like a normal person, is beyond me.

Last night, Savannah came over with sushi and dedication, as she helped me wrap things up by packing every square inch of my kitchen, food included. That pantry has never looked so empty! Moments after she left I got a serious craving for red hots and had to do a little digging to satisfy it. Nothing like working for my meal, eh?

Mid-process, we decided it was time to drink sparkling peach juice, which I've had since a wedding in May. With the bottle openers and knives packed, Savannah was sure she could open it with the edge of a metal spoon. A lot of work it may have been for five month old nonalcoholic champagne, but the beauty was in the process...