Hubby will be mad. I have barely packed in two hour's time. The house looks the same. We are moving tonight.
Below are images of why I haven't gotten very far. It's not for lack of trying.
You can see my son ON the kitchen table. This happens every time I turn myself around to pack something.
Then, he decides what to pack in the box. You can't quite see, but he is putting his shoes in the dishes box. And my bra, my shoes, his car, the utensil drawer of the dishwasher, his bottle, and he even tried to pack the dog. No joke. But an ornery 70 lb shepherd is quite immobile so he gave up.
Then, boxes make great toys and seats and stages for dancing, especially the box labeled "danger and fragile" full of wine glasses and knives.
So, my dear readers, back me up when hubby says I got nothing done.