Que largo me lo fiais (2.0)

So.... JD is at my parents to allow me plenty of time for undistracted TCOB'ing. We're closing tomorrow at 10am, and the movers will be here Thursday by 7am. So.... why am I sitting here, eating ice cream and dicking around on the internets, when there is shit to be done? Massive shit. Like, only three boxes (and they of useless crap like picture frames and old X-Box games) have been packed. What the fuck is wrong with me? I need someone to tell me, "Pack, MoFo, Pack!" But then I'd probably just smile and say, "Ah, que largo me lo fiais."