It’s been a week of packing things. Moving boxes! Cardboard boxes! BOXES! BOXES! BOXES! THIS CAN'T FIT! THIS IS TOO BIG! I hate moving. It’s not the place we are moving to because it is a very nice place. There are lots of trees and some semblance of plant life. Which is more than I can say with the place we are presently in.

That's one of the primary reasons why Cess wanted to move. There's no fresh air here. But then again is there any in manila?

And I can actually hear crickets chirping at night in the new place. CRICKETS! FROG SOUNDS! Not the hum and shrieking noise of jeeps and cars. Or the screams and loud chatter of ciggie vendors and delivery boys.

It’s just that packing has always been a bitch! Unpacking is fun but packing aint. When I go abroad I always postponed packing up until the eleventh hour. Everyone bugs me about it. That I should start preparing a week in advance. Yeah I know that’s the logical thing to do but if I did do that I have a tendency of over packing.

I’d pack three reading materials to read in the airport, in the plane, in the waiting area, in the drive to the hotel, in the hotel lobby and inside the hotel room. I’d pack too much clothes which I would end up not using anyway.

So when I get back and look at the stuff that I didn’t get to use I’d just bitch about it and complain about how I had to lug that big heavy suitcase, stuffed to the brim with things I didn’t wear.

But when I pack at the eleventh hour, I’m forced to just take the bare essentials. So I end up with a lighter bag. If I do run out of shirts I can always buy that in the place I’m in.

Now I’m packing again. And this time it’s for a place transfer which is even worse than packing for traveling.

As we move out stuff I thought that the house we are leaving would get bigger. Instead it got smaller and smaller. Because of the boxes! Everyday Cess gets more boxes to load stuff in.

I cant even get to the dinning area without contorting my body to obscene positions. I’m completely boxed in