Mum is busy packing at the moment. It seems to be never ending. Our lounge room is filled with boxes! All clearly labelled with a number and what room it belongs to, which correlates to a colour coded floor plan. (anal retentive anyone?) Did I mention there is also a spreadsheet with a detailed list of contents?
Dad and I are in trouble for not helping as much as we can. In Dad's defence he is working weekends so he can't help much then. As for me... I have no idea what Mum is on about. I have been moving boxes as well as the packing tape. I didn't realise the boxes weren't supposed to end up in tiny pieces or that Mum needed to know where the packing tape was. Why did she put it down then?
Nobody told me that when Mum packs socks into a box, I'm not supposed to run off with it. It was fun running off with them and hiding from Mum.
Mum also thought that it would be nice to get the carpets cleaned for the new owners. I figured since the carpet man was cleaning them anyway, it wouldn't matter if I did a poo in the spare bedroom. Well the silly man ended up vacuuming over my poo, spreading it out all over the carpet! Luckily for him (and me), he had some super amazing carpet cleaner that magically made the horrible stain disappear.
All this "helping" is exhausting. I've decided that it would be easier (and safer) to just keep out of the way and have a nap. Unfortunately for Dad, that might not be an option for him.