What Procrastination Looks Like

"When they write my obituary. Tomorrow. Or the next day. It will say, "Leo Gursky is survived by an apartment full of crap." - The History of Love 

I should be packing right now. 

Instead I'm making a list of all the things I need to pack, blogging about our move, and researching tips on how to make moving/packing easier on Pinterest. Gah. I hate moving. And now that I have given birth I can honestly say that I hate moving more than labor/childbirth. I'll take being strapped to a table and sliced open any day over this prolonged torture of boxing up my life and transporting it elsewhere. At least with childbirth there is a cute baby at the end of your troubles. What do you get when you move? You get to unpack all those stinkin boxes. Woo-freakin-hoo.
Ok, I'm done whining.

 Here's what procrastination looks like.

 Playing with momma's sunglasses

 Foot rubs from baby: child labor at it's finest.

 Six(!!!!) teeth coming in at once makes for a clingy baby.

I sometimes beat my husband. 

Just kidding. He got hit by a flying rock while shooting a short film with the young men from our ward. Whoever thought that telling a group of teenage boys to throw rocks over his head must have been a genius.  They thought it might be a concussion but I wasn't that worried. I mean, just because he occasionally slurs his words and starts flapping like a chicken doesn't mean he has a concussion. It just means we don't have insurance.


Ok, I've gotta go throw some more of our shiz into some boxes.
Peace.