So it begins. The actual packing. Bleck. We're in the first stages and already my house looks like this:
Why am I even keeping this disturbing assortment of clothing?
John got this chair from his Grandma Heywood's house when she died. It's like a pet to him.
I've been trying to get rid of a lot of stuff. Bags upon bags of things are going to the Deseret Industries, but the chair above, sorry John, went straight to the trash... it's just time... past time. Anyone bored? I'll put you to work. But definitely remember your HAZMAT suit, it's disgusting here.