I suck at packing

Oi. I've been trying - and only semi-succeeding - to pack up all the stuff I've managed to accumulate in my parent's house. It's not going too well. I think the house is out to get me. Or maybe I'm just procrastinating. Or maybe it's just fear. But I've gotten myself this far, so I might as well keep on truckin' along. I'm working my way through the basement right now; once that space is all boxed up, I'll only have my room to pack up. Yikes! I still haven't managed to buy a friggin' laundry basket. I can't decide if I want a tall one, a round one, or a rectangular one. I suck at small decisions. Life altering, major ones? Check. Small, insignificant ones? Suck. At least my dog's being productive. Half Pint is currently on alert for any deer that might try to jump through my second story bedroom windows to attack me. She's pretty awesome (and entertaining!!). Le sigh. She keeps me sane. :)