I am not a grown up...

I really suck at being a grown up, y'all. I mean... total failure. This is the second time in a year that I've had to move, and it's the second time in as many moves that every box makes me just want to cry with despair. There are a multitude of reasons for that, but at the end... I just don't want to do it.

I know that you have to do what you HAVE To DO, but I don't want to. I want to just... give up. I hate moving. It freaks me out. It stresses me inordinate, unreasonable, unaccountable amounts. I just want to curl into a ball and wait until They (whoever They are) come and move all my crap for me.

At least this time, I can do some of the packing. Although, in furtherance of my "not a grown up" comment, V was helping me earlier today and made me stop because "you're starting to wheeze again."

Y'all... I just don't know.

How on earth did anyone ever decide that I was an adult? There must be a test somewhere that I've just forgotten to take and I'm fooling everyone, right?

( Stress over ALL the things! )

/meltdown

Or who am I kidding? The meltdown is just beginning.