But I Don't Want To Move

I'm a procrastinator. I have been denying it all week, but I must face the cold, hard facts. I am procrastinating. Do you know what I should be doing right now? Well, it doesn't involve writing this post, that's for sure. Right now I should be packing up my office to move, because we are finally moving. To the 5th floor, temporarily, until our permanent cubes on the 2nd floor are ready for us.

We are suppose to have our entire office in boxes by Friday evening so they can move everything over the weekend. I suppose by now you can probably guess how many of my boxes I have packed. That's right-none. Not a one.

Yesterday I was wandering around the department when I was stopped by a co-worker, Brian (not my Brian). He asked what he was suppose to do, he was out of tape. He needed tape. I was like, I don’t know what to do. I need boxes. He said we were also out of boxes. What?! We’re out of boxes?? I haven’t even packed one! You used all of the boxes? He was astounded I hadn’t even begun to pack. Whatever!

A little later we were having a baby shower for Ross. Everyone was complaining that not only do we have to move Friday, but we would also have to do it all over again in about 8 months. Someone cracked a joke, “in this company that will be about 2 years.” I told everyone, “that’s right, we never move when they say we’re going to. That’s why I haven’t even started packing yet. You guys are all going to be sorry when come Friday afternoon they tell us that plans have changed. We aren’t moving.”

See, I have all these excuses, but the truth of the matter is we are moving on Friday. They have our new, very small work space all set up on 5 East. They have us assigned to the cubes. They have our layouts hanging by each door. It’s really going to happen and I have two drawers emptied and a few pictures taken down. I’m not ready.

Come Friday at about 4 o’clock I imagine I will be frantically calling Brian, sobbing, begging him to come help me pack so I won’t have to be here until 9 pm. He will probably tell me that I shouldn’t wait until the last minute and he warned me that I would run out of time. He’ll probably tell me that I had 2-3 weeks to prepare for this and he does not have time for such nonsense. And then, maybe because most of the time he’s sweet, he’ll probably come up and help me pack. Unless of course I stop procrastinating and just get my act together and pack myself. Ugh!