Stacy Wants Ninja Cats

It's official. We've gone crazy.

Our future downstairs neighbor called me today to complain about packing. I thought it was funny, because I wasn't packing when he called, but I was thinking about packing. Really, if you add up all the time I have spent thinking about packing and converted it into time spent... uh... packing, three houses would be boxed up and ready to move. However, theory does not imply action regardless of what Zizek says.

Some interesting things have been happening to Stacy and I in this weird home stretch. Stacy has developed Tourette's Syndrome and keeps wandering around twitching and swearing under her breath, and insisting that she wants ninja cats because there was a movie on a Canadian channel that featured highly-trained combat kitties. I have totally stopped doing anything other than wondering if anyone loves me. Oh, and singing songs like "Disco Inferno" at inappropriate times.

When my stepmother packed up her and my fathers house she bought color-coded tape and ironed things that were going into boxes. I am barely able to assemble boxes, let alone accurate pack or label them. How did she do it? Well, it's three a.m., and I think it's time to get packin'

Note: The word packing was used in excess due to laziness and lack of motivation. It in no way reflects the authors opinions on repetition as a literary device, assuming she is still sane enough to have opinions.