A Packed House

Mark woke up this morning, opened his eyes, and said "I don't see anything packed up for the move."
I've been trying very hard to ignore his negativity. Because Mark did not want to move away from Florida, didn't want to move out of this house, he has been like a dead weight dragging behind me.

"I don't see anything I like on Zillow in our price range."

"I don't see anything we could live in that's in a nice neighborhood."

"I can't parallel park."

"I don't think there are doctors in Illinois."

"Something horrible is going to happen."

It's so frustrating. At every turn I have to re-convince Mark that everything is going to be okay. Of course that is not true, everything will not be okay. Things will go wrong. But I guarantee I am trying my best to make it go smoothly. And as for that packing up to move thing, I think it is on schedule. I have been packing and packing for months. The big problem is that not only has Mark filled this house with way too much stuff, he has continued to buy more stuff long after it became apparent that we are moving.

Do you know what would be much cheaper than paying movers to come and move all this crap to Chicago? A dumpster. Honestly, I could just chuck all this shit into a dumpster, hop into the car, and go to Chicago with just the dogs. I would be much happier than going through all this crap. Oh, and we could make room in the car for Mark.