This is what our lives have been reduced to. Everywhere you turn, there is a giant wall o' boxes. There isn't even any furniture anymore to break up the landscape -- we sold pretty much all our living room seating yesterday. We are planning on getting a new couch when we move, and a customer of Ian's was interested in our futon, loveseat, and most of our other belongings, as well. I was happy to get rid of the old furniture without the boredom and fuss of a garage sale, but the guy who bought it all was a bit off-kilter. He offered to buy most of our other stuff (none of which was for sale), and kept repeatedly joking that he would like to purchase Max while he was at it. The joke turned from funny to weird around the third time he brought it up. Fortunately, Max was at his grandparents' when the guy came to pick up his stuff, or I might have felt compelled to frisk him on his way out.
Max's bedroom is in the same advanced state of decay as the rest of the house, so I set up his napping space in the one clear patch the living room has left. (And it's only clear because the loveseat was there until yesterday.) Tuckered out from playing with various grandparents, dealing with constant routine disruption, and watching the spectacle of his parents' rapid descent into madness, Max finally succumbed to this new sleeping arrangement this afternoon. Look at the peaceful little oasis he creates in the midst of all the chaos. Oh, carefree youth!