Up a Really Big Creek Without a Paddle

Okay, so the move to meld the mouses, both country and city, is a bit like shopping for a sofa. Seems like it should be a fun activity; turns out it's not. And I feel a bit like I'm up shit creek.

Doesn't help that the girl is right there with me....in the creek we'll call, de Nile.

So it's no secret I'm thrilled with the situation. Although she might be surprised to learn I'm sad about leaving the country. I'm going to miss it. But I try to keep it all to myself.

See, I'm not sure she is thrilled. And I don't want to rub it in her face. I'm sure she feels like she is giving up a lot to come to me. I, on the other hand, can't wait for her to see what she's gonna gain. I think she's keeping a secret calendar marking off the time until she can return to paradise.

In the meantime, we don't talk about it. And if we do, we fight. I'm told this is normal. I don't love it. She says I act like I'm not excited about it. --the move, not the fighting. Yes, that is kinda what I was going for. On the inside I'm pink with delight.

I say, you also don't seem excited about it. She says she is. But you see how she packs right? Keeps saying she's not moving anything. I'm like, you realize you are MOVING to the city. It's where you live now little mouse. Yeah, but all I need is some pants. Some pants, 'that's all I need... And these matches. - The ashtray, and these matches, and the remote control, and the paddle ball... And this lamp. And I don't need one other thing, except my dog.' Jerk.

I feel like she doesn't expect to stay long. Like she is uprooting her life for the next 6 months and that's all. Then we move back. You see my trunk right? Just some random pieces from her life packed piece by piece in the Civic. This picture, my mug, chapstick, and some pants, that's all I need.  Baby, I don't love boxes stored in the attic, but I'm not opposed to them whilst physically moving. And you're not The Jerk. Maybe we could try actually packing something next time?