Moving…

I hate moving. No really I do, packing all your shit up, carrying heavy ass shit just so you can move it to a new place and carry it again, then unpack it. Pain in the ass.Of course what makes it worse is the fact that I know it’s temporary and we’ll be doing this again in a year (and then who knows, probably again after that.)You know maybe it wouldn’t be quite so bad, but my life doesn’t quite fit into boxes. I started packing some books, CDs and DVDs yesterday. I now have a nice stack of boxes, and I have barely made a dent.The thing is, like many things in life my logical mind simplifies it. I mean how hard can it be? Stack stuff in a box then repeat. It’s not until you’re knee deep in boxes that you realize it’s just not that simple.—–Cara sent me her schedule yesterday morning. It kind of sucks because even though she has days off, she has to go in to do rounds on Mondays either way. So it may be a number of weeks until we’re able to get together again (which sucks.)After she left on Sunday I started going though our wedding schedule and the things to do. We’re actually pretty much ahead of the game, but I’m still itching to do more. One of the primary things on my list is to find a limo to transport the wedding party. So I hopped onto The Knot which Cara is addicted to. My intention was to see what kind of info they have on limo services (which is not much.) I decided to see what postings Cara has/had done on the forum.Nothing too exciting except for a post regarding her fear that I wouldn’t like the dress. Defiantly a female thing. I mean here are the facts 1) If we could choose the perfect dress it probably wouldn’t fit your body style. 2) We really, honestly, don’t care THAT much about clothes. It’s not that we don’t care exactly, it’s that we don’t know any better.The bottom line is that unless you do something totally off the deep end, we’ll like it. All we really care about is the lingerie under it anyway!