The movers that will be moving the contents of our house will come to MenoLand, walk into the house, start packing our stuff into boxes and load the truck.

We do not hafta do anything.

A move with no stress allegedly

*wiggles*

And yet, I am not totally comfortable with that sweet arrangement for two reasons: I'll be damned if I want a strange man rifling through my granny pants and I'll be doubly damned if they are gonna touch my delicate hand blown Venetian glass, the jade wine glasses from China or the Limoge china set given to me from my Nana.

Somehow, the very thought of someone touching my delicates - ginormous granny pants or the precious glasses and dishes - is a no-no, so I'll be packing those myself, thank you very much.

Hubby sezs 'Ma, these movers are professionals and know what they are doing.'

'That's fine and dandy but once the stuff is broken that's that and I am not taking any chances' sezs the Meno to her hubby.

Gawd.

It's always a story now innit?