Pour le vainqueur va le butin

I am being mollywopped. For those of you who don't know what a mollywopping is - have you ever been in a knock down - drag out fight? I'm talking loose teeth fight. Fighting so hard you can't catch your breath. More than just a regular argument that turns to blows, a mollywopping is an ass kicking. And dear readers, my apartment is KICKING MY ASS.

I have a little over 2 weeks, and in my suit case, are newly purchased make-up brushes and freaking towels. I'm going to France, with nothing. But I will be able to apply my make-up if I ever decide to pack that, and I'll be very absorbent. This ladies and gentlemen is a problem.

I don't even really know why I haven't packed. I get to keep my apartment here (luckily for me, I'm spoiled and my parents own it) meaning I don't have to pack up all of my stuff. I can stagger my moving. My parents and siblings plan on visiting come Christmas - they can bring my winter needs, and then my brothers will come in the summer and they'll bring the rest of it. But for whatever reason - I can't get anything packed. The more I think of it - the less I want to go. Isn't that insane. How is that even possible. How does packing make me want to pack it all in and say forget. I'll keep my boring job, that I'm destroying my insides over and keep my mundane life - because this - this right here is EXACTLY what I want. Again maybe its the heat. Maybe I'm just being lazy. Either way - to the victor goes the spoils. I'm going to go fold some sweaters or something - get my shit in order.