Order packing cartons: CHECK.
Start assembling and packing the cartons: CHECK.
Get kids to start packing cartons: CHECK.
Have a glass of wine: CHECK.
Break down huge library (husband's big project before going on unavoidable long business trip to Haiti) and pack in cartons: CHECK (nearly)
Realize have run out of book-sized cartons, even though had ordered 100: CHECK.
Have a glass of wine: CHECK.
Make rough inventory of what will be moved to new house vs. what goes in self-storage: CHECK.
Revise inventory because way underestimated number of cartons: CHECK.
Make list of moving companies to contact for estimates: CHECK.
Make list of self-storage places to contact for estimates: CHECK.
Have friend who is dating a cop tell you that boyfriend advises NOT using certain self-storage places as frequently broken into: CHECK.
Be grateful for friends with connections, and revise list of self-storage places accordingly: CHECK.
Kiss husband goodbye (crying, comme d'habitude) as he leaves for Haiti for NINE FUCKING DAYS: CHECK.
Avoid calling moving and self-storage companies in husband's absence, because will need to speak French on the phone: CHECK.
Eat too much chocolate, stressing about husband being in Haiti: CHECK.
Skype with husband and feel better afterward: CHECK.
Pack even more cartons: CHECK.
Have a glass of wine: CHECK.
Look at calendar and realize less than 3 weeks until drop-dead date for moving out, and you don't have a mover or moving date booked yet, and you had promised your husband you would at least get estimates while he's in Haiti: FREAK OUT, then CHECK.
Have a glass of wine. In fact, have two: CHECK.
Get kids to pack more cartons: CHECK.
Praise kids who actually pack (some of) their cartons: CHECK.
Grind teeth about other kids who don't: CHECK.
Send oriental rug to be de-pipi-de-chat-ted at the dry cleaners: CHECK.
Forget to pick up the rug for more than two weeks: CHECK.
Have a glass of wine: CHECK.
Pack more cartons with heavy things like cast-iron pots, wonder if they are too heavy for the movers to lift, and decide that's THEIR problem: CHECK.
Wonder how to pack oddly sized or shaped household items that won't fit in cartons: CHECK.
Finally muster the cajones to call two moving companies and smile to self smugly after successfully booking one visit for estimate: CHECK.
Get pissed off when second moving company doesn't bother calling you back to schedule a visit, because now you will have to call them back and speak French on the phone, and you'd rather go to the dentist than speak French on the phone: CHECK.
Make a note that you DO need to go to the dentist to get that broken crown replaced: CHECK.
Move cartons around to create safe passages between rooms, as too many cartons to count now: CHECK.
Find time to do food shopping, wash seemingly endless piles of dirty laundry, and be the only one who notices there are dirty dishes piling up in the sink: CHECK.
Wish your cleaning lady could just move in here full time: CHECK.
Have a glass of wine: CHECK.
Have another glass of wine: CHECK.
Pack more cartons: CHECK.
Buy more cartons: ummmmm... oops.
Realize need Tylenol for back pain from bending and lifting items into cartons: CHECK.
Have a glass of wine instead of Tylenol: CHECK.
Hug, kiss and cry all over husband when he returns from Haiti, just hours before most airports in northern Europe close because of that stupid Icelandic volcano: CHECK.
Conduct visit (en français) with moving company representative for estimate, and later wonder if you inadvertently told him you might be needing someone to come and pack the kids in cartons when you really meant to say "dishes": CHECK.
Look around house with mountains of boxes and debris and all the stuff still NOT packed despite everyone's best (or worst) efforts, and wonder in desperation how the fuck you will ever get it all done in time: CHECK.
Have a glass of wine (so what if it's only 10:30am): CHECK.
Decide to say, "Aw, fuck it" and do the best you can... after having another glass of wine, of course. Because somehow, some way, things always seem to work out.
CHECK.