I hate to pack.
Ok, it's not packing that I hate. It's the cleaning that goes with it. See, I can't go away with a messy house. Actually, its not the leaving a messy house that drives me nuts; it's the returning to a messy house that makes me want to go all Jerry Springer. If I could leave my house messy, I would be ok, if I knew that the cleaning fairy was going to come over and magically make the messes dissappear. But, sadly, I have yet to see evidence that the cleaning fairy exists. Maybe if I left the house messy, and a burglar broke in (to steal what, exactly, I am not sure), they would feel sorry for me, clean up and leave empty handed. I know, I know, pipe dreams.
The kicker is that I gave up caffeine for lent, and could really really use a jolt right about now...God would understand...right?