Out of sight out of mind...sorta

In case you didn't know, we moved last weekend.  I've managed to do plenty of unpacking and organizing, but there is still a TON to do.

One box in particular, I'm perfectly fine with leaving...for the time being.

The one which holds the scale.

That evil piece of metal and plastic and its display numbers of doom.

I know I'm on the go by far more than I've ever been.  I've been drinking my water like a good girl.  But we haven't been eating the greatest.  With most of my cookware still packed up and the counters covered in items still needing homes, it's easiest to do takeout or a fast unhealthy dinner.

I hate myself for doing it each time.  I get aggravated that I'm not that unpacked yet.  This is important, way important, and me going slowly to make sure I put things in the best place is probably not helping the waist line.

So it sits.  In a box in the garage.  Because I'm afraid to see that either a)I've gained a freakishly scary amount or b) I'm still just the same as always.

Stay tuned, cause at some point that bastard is coming out of the garage and I'll have to stand on it to see the damage.