"well, we got boxes."

those are the exact words that came along with this picture message the hubz sent me. yo, uhaul, we could pack our ENTIRE FUCKING HOUSE in the boxes you sent the boxes in, mmkay? my. entire. kitchen. is full of. boxes. (p.s. i love you and know you ignored all the dirty dishes/pots/pans/bottles on my countertops. don't look. kthnx.)

as if i needed yet ANOTHER sign that, HELLO your husband is moving away for his job and you can't go with him because you live in butt fuck egypt and no one wants to buy your house and you can't find a rental where you are going. yeah. it's like uhaul rubbed my nose in it.

so. i don't think i have ever dreaded anything as much as i have dreaded DH moving next week. yes, he'll be home three days a week, but it won't be on the weekends, so really, i will get to see him for a grand total of 9 hours a week. maybe 12. if we're lucky, 12.

FML.

but we have boxes.