Up to My Eyeballs in Cardboard

We have piles of boxes in each and every room of our house. Packed boxes, empty boxes, collapsed boxes not yet taped together. Annie follows me around the house with a roll of packing tape, pulling off more and more into a big tape ball while singing, "I helping Mom tape boxes!"

Last night I protested anymore packing, cuddled up with my hubby after we got the kids to bed, grabbed a bowl of eggnog ice cream (it's OK, I prefer peppermint if we're going 'Holiday Edition' flavors, but Greg's not a peppermint ice cream kinda person), and watched "Chuck" and part of "Heroes" (which, frankly, I'm less and less likely to keep watching it with every episode . . . not quite sure why I'm still watching it actually, except that it's DVRed, and it beats watching "Guiding Light" or something while I fold laundry during the day.) Of course, now I'm nearing panic-attack mode thinking, "Crap! I didn't get anything done last night! Now must redouble my efforts and pack all day, while dealing with a whiny two year old (who is understandably whiny, since she has a sinus infection and an awful cold) and an only-Mommy-holding-me-while-walking-will-do six month old who has the same stupid cold her older sister has and has therefore given up napping). If only I could teach Annie to tape up boxes for me!"

Believe it or not, we're outta here on Saturday! That's unbelievably soon.