Jun. 21st, 2017

We are in the "burn everything down and start anew from the ashes" stage of moving, exacerbated by Yeats doing the lion's share of the packing and transporting boxes to the house while I spend the day at work and pack some stuff in the evenings. Also exacerbated by my being (apparently) a complete and utter idiot and packing things wrong, or in boxes already earmarked for other things, or just generally being in the way/in the vicinity while he's trying to do something.

I know we're just stressed and tired, and once we're officially in the house this weekend, things will get better, and unpacking is easier than packing. But I'm sore and tired, and if I am, Yeats is well on the way to shambling-undead.

I will check tomorrow's work calendar, and perhaps ask Aveline if I can take a half-day to go along with my Friday off. I need to pull my weight.

Reading Log: Within the Sanctuary of Wings by Marie Brennan; My Cousin Rachel by Daphne DuMaurier; The Dark Days Pact by Alison Goodman; A Voice out of Ramah by Lee Killough; Given to the Sea by Mindy McGinnis; The Dispatcher by John Scalzi; Triggered by Fletcher Wortmann; Judenstaat by Simone Zelitch

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miladygrey

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