Am I there yet?

More stuff packed tonight and more to go tomorrow. The neat stack of cardboard growing in center of the room looks far too large to ever fit into the back of a car, though appearances are hopefully deceptive. I wish this were more fun. Sifting through old things, wallowing in nostalgia and fond memories. I think I found it enjoyable once, but it's rote now. Too familiar a routine - another box, another move. Another brick in the wall. Wash, rinse, repeat. Now I just feel tired, vaguely depressed and... cold. I should probably turn the heating on.

I'll be glad when it's over. I should go to bed now. Wake me up when it's Christmas.