Don't forget to wrap my collection of tiny monuments in bubble wrap, guys

I feel like such an ass. For the last three hours, three nice Irish guys have been packing up my house. In the 95 degree heat. And what have I been doing? First I hastily threw all of the dry food left in our kitchen and garage into a box (we have Hamburger Helper Cheeseburger Mac! Two boxes! Who knew!). When that five minutes was up, I brought a patio chair into the garage and sat there as I caught up on the last 5 months of Overheard in New York. Then I fell asleep. Then I woke myself up by soring, you know, like when you fall asleep on airplane and your head dangles back? Like that. Then I sat in my car with the AC on full blast and charged my cell phone. Then I darted back inside and grabbed my laptop, and now I'm sitting in the garage again. Except one of the movers is five feet behind me, packing up my VERY IMPORTANT THINGS like a dozen kongs and 10 years worth of T-shirts. Because someday, I am going to make that T-shirt quilt.