So, I move out of Alex’s on Saturday. Although, it’s my last night here tonight. So, I need to pack my stuff up. Again. Seems like only 5 minutes since I was last packing it up to come here. When I moved out of my house most of my stuff went to the parentals to be stored, and some came to Alex’s. You may remember I was horrendously hungover. I probably blogged about it. I think back to that day; most of my stuff wasn’t packed. The plan was to pack most of it on the Friday night then finish up the little bits on the Saturday ready for my dad and the van later that night.
Yeah right. What actually happened: I went out for a couple of drinks on the Friday for someone’s leaving do. I didn’t eat (because I didn’t think I was staying out) and ended up getting in at who-knows-what time (but definitely after midnight) absolutely bungalowed. Cue major hangover the next day and a day of packing. But it wasn’t just packing. It was having to decide what needed to go to Alex’s and what was to go into storage. Bloody hell that was difficult for my brain to try to think about. Then car trips with Karl to take the stuff down to the flat. The whole day was utterly horrific. I NEVER want to do that again (not the car trips with Karl, they’re OK, but the packing while hungover).
However, there’s a strong likelihood that I’ll be hungover again on Saturday, because tomorrow is my last day at work and it’s my leaving do straight after work until god-knows-how-late. But, at least I’m prepared this time. Most things are packed up in neat piles so I know what needs to go to which house. Because, oh yeah, that’s the other thing. I haven’t got a base for the next week; I’ll be staying at 4 different houses. Just to make it that little bit more of a pain in the arse.
And of course I’ve got my backpack to pack. Everything I need for a year on the road in one little bag to carry around on my back like a snail. I reckon I’ve got most of my stuff ready, I just need to research how to pack like a BOSS. And then practice. All of this has got to go in a 60 litre backpack.
I’m being really productive tonight but also feel like my head might implode. So much to do, I feel like I’m running round in circles trying to get it done. Not knowing where to start. Lots of little bits to get done. Loose ends to tie up. It’s the same at work. I’ve spent all day at work today doing that, then came home and spent the entire evening carrying on.
“Surely you have a list” I hear you cry. Well, kind of. “But you’re a project manager, you should have all this under control. You should like this” Erm not really. I’ve had about enough. Enough of planning and lists and all that jazz.
My head hurts. I’m drained. And I still haven’t started on my packing or trying to think about what stuff needs to be where at the weekend when I move out of Alex’s.
Soon. Soon it will be done and I will be on the road. Free. No lists.
Until then. Meep.
And, really, tonight, all the above pales into insignificance when you hear of the awful attack in Woolwich today. My thoughts go out to the man and his family. Such awful, awful news.
And what a freakin’ weekend it was. A whirlwind, alcohol filled, hectic weekend. Shattered is not the word.
- Friday night: very boozy night out, starting straight after work. Late night, not much sleep.
- Saturday daytime: Bad hangover, pack contents of house up ready for moving.
- Saturday night: Move majority of contents of house to parents house.
- Sunday morning: Move rest of contents of house to parents house, clean empty house
- Sunday afternoon: be godparent at best friend’s children’s christening. Drink lots of alcohol. Late night.
There were leaving drinks on Friday night for some guys at work. I was going to go for a couple of beers and then home to carry on packing ready for more packing and cleaning on Saturday. Did.Not.Happen. Just a couple of drinks turned into a Whole Night Out. Cue FAR too much alcohol and a late night. Tip for the future: never go out the night before moving. Saturday was so much of a struggle it was painful. It did not make for a pleasant experience.
So I moved out of my house this weekend. I lived there for 1 year and 3 months. It’s the place I moved to after separating with my ex-husband towards the end of 2011 and the first place where I’ve lived by myself. I’ll miss that house so much. It felt like home the minute I moved in and I’ve had so many brilliant times there. I’ve made so many memories, and will never forget all that’s gone on there.
It was just perfect for me, my own little space and I am really gutted to have moved out. I had friends next door but one and just round the corner. I will miss just being able to pop round the corner to chat with Karl (for Monday Night After Work Cup Of Tea or Weekend Gossip Cup of Tea or Impromptu Film Club) but I’ll still go see him, it will just take a hell of a lot longer to get home again.
But, it was time to move. To be able to afford to do the travelling I want I need to move in with a mate for a couple of months to save that last bit of money. So needs must.
It was a bit strange to wake up at my parents on Sunday morning. The last time I’d stayed there was for a short time back in 2011 while going through my marriage breakup and it kind of took me back to that time. Not nice and didn’t really enjoy being reminded of it. Realised how different things are now. It was nice to wake up to the view from my old bedroom though.
What is funny, is how the contents of my house fit in just half of my brother’s old bedroom. When I was packing most of my stuff up on Saturday it seemed like I had LOADS of things. Even though I knew I’d got rid of loads. But actually looking at it all, I haven’t really. I’m not a big hoarder of stuff. I suspect the reason it seemed like loads was because of the evil hangover and everything taking twice as long and twice the effort.
Sunday I was godparent for my best friend’s daughter. It was a brilliant day with loads of awesome people. They’re a great bunch and her family make me part of their family. I’m very honoured that they are all part of my life. Christening after-parties shouldn’t be held in pubs though. Drank far too much, had a late night and now the weekend is catching up with me. Absolutely knackered. My lovely friend Alex is cooking me tea and looking after me though. He is ace.
Time for an early night.
So, the packing has started. I move out of my house at the weekend and I’ve been sorting my stuff out over the last few weeks. I’ve chucked no end of stuff out, sold some stuff and given a load of stuff to charity. So, all I’m left with is the things I want to keep. Which now need separating into things to go straight to my parents for storage and things that I am taking with me to a friend’s where I am staying for a couple of months before I go abroad.
Which sounds easy but it’s actually not. I don’t want to (and can’t) take all my stuff with me to Alex’s. So I have to really think about what I’m going to need for the next few months. The change in weather. The limited space I’ll have. The holidays and events I’m going to. The things I actually need (rather than what I think I need).
Some stuff is easy. So I started with that. Tonight was picture night. I took all my pictures down and packed them away. I was sad about this; my pictures are one of my favourite things in the house. They are all new (as in, bought in the last year and a bit) and all chosen just by me. They are all different, and might not go with anything else in my house but they all mean something. They are all personal to me and not just generic pictures that anyone can buy. I like this.
But now they are packed away the house feels bare. Which, well, it will do. I’m moving. I know that. Just goes to show it’s not just the house that makes this feel like home to me, it’s the things in it. And I’m not a material person at all. But I do like my little things that I have. Chosen by me. Put up by me.
So, until we meet again. Bye bye pictures.