My Virgo head is about to asplode

So I officially moved in Saturday and it still looks like a middle class refugee lives in my house.  It’s all too hard to sum up.  Let’s just look at the numbers, shall we?

Move Ranking Meter:

Cost of movers:  $546
Boxes: 60
Lampshades broken: 2
Trash bags full of crap because I ran out of boxes:  12-15
Beds that actually have sheets on them:  0
Disappointment that I couldn’t eat sausage last night because I couldn’t find a knife to cut it:  immeasurable
Rolls of contact paper: 12
Trips to Target to buy more contact paper: 3
Phone calls from my mother (per night since moving in): 1-4
Broken pieces of furniture: 2
Broken pieces of glass: 0, so yay!
Dead birds in the chimney: 1
Broken promises to myself that tonight I am definitely going to make a dent in this:  7
Articles of clean clothing in my house right now: 0
Number of nights my dad has supposed to have been coming over to fix the washing machine: 7
Level of tired: 214 with +50 happy and chance of emitting a “squee!” every 20 minutes

Still a lot of painting left to do.  My bedroom closet is still under construction.  The Diseased Ceiling Fan still hasn’t been removed from the kitchen.  I need more contact paper for the bathroom.  Eh, the list goes on.  It’s still a craphole.

But it’s MY craphole.

Squeee!!