OK, damn.

I'm taking time out from the agony of packing to move (Do you have any boxes?! I need more boxes!) to link to this post about grudges.

I am hereby jumping on that bandwagon, and promising to burrow through my baggage, find the grudges, and get the flock over them. I agree that it's horrible that it took this sad, sad incident to awaken me to the toxicity of grudges, and it's time to change myself in yet another way. So here I go. I can forgive the kid who used to torture me in geometry, once by holding me by the hair while he drew a dotted line on my neck and wrote "cut here," and the father who disappeared, and the aunts with the drama addictions who broke my Nana's heart, and the thrid grade teacher who took away all my books, and the other grudges I'm sure I can remember if given enough time.

MEANWHILE, people! I am moving! Oy vey!

I keep thinking I have enough boxes for all the knitting cack and really? Again and again it is untrue. I had all these big plans to slash and burn the clutter, purge it from my life, and somehow as I pick it all up it seems that I NEED all of it. And you know, for future reference, books are heavy! They should be packed in the SMALL boxes.

Back to the trenches. Wish me luck!