No place like home

So I lied in my last post.  There really is no place like home.  And it is good to be here with the cats.  Once again they were so happy to see me that they haven't given me a moment's peace since I got home.  Fiona is, in fact, licking my fingers as I type and head butting my arm in an effort to get me to pet her, followed by her pleading little meows.  Portia is laying, back to me, in front of me on the bed, as though she were a sentinel, waiting to ward off anything that could possibly harm me. 

The thing about home, though, is that you have to clean up after yourself and no one makes the bed for you.  Also, this place is not going to pack itself.  I have precisely one week to pack my entire condo.  It really isn't going to be too terribly difficult.  Just really, really boring.  I have already packed all the boxes that I currently have and a friend of mine is going to give me some more tonight.  I will also need some more tape, I think, before this adventure is over.  

I am trying to think how everything in my kitchen here is going to fit into my new place's kitchen.  It doesn't seem like I have a lot of stuff, but when you start packing it into boxes, it certainly makes it seem like a lot.  It is also easy to toss things out so you don't have to move them.  Suddenly, sentimentality goes out the window.  You really don't need to keep that red wax crayon that was your favourite when you were 7 and is now just a little nub of coloured wax.  

After a day of packing and cleaning and laundry, I am glad I have a whole week for this packing stuff.  Because every five minutes, a cat wants to sit on my lap or be petted.