moving house

Packing is eating away my life. If I had no books it would be a million times quicker.  That's not an exaggeration; it's a careful calculation done with weights and measures and all sorts.  Look at the books over there.  I alphabetised the hell out of them.  And those shelves - man, I love my shelves.  If I could transport that entire wall halfway up the country, I would. But it seems I can't, so the books were very laboriously packed up, and the poor old wall was left all naked and embarrassed.     

The suspension on the car complained the entire way up the M6.  We did two journeys up and down in the car (a van will take care of the rest very soon) and now I've got a flat in Birmingham that looks even emptier than this mid-packing snap, and a flat in Manchester that looks like a library and a cardboard factory exploded all over it.  The gas supply is disconnected in the new place, so it's salads and cold showers for the time being.  The universe knows I'm a student again and is wreaking some sort of horrible gas-less vengeance.  Plus the kitchen table is actually a patio table, and the boy, the boyfriend who's done all the packing and lifting, has gotten swine flu.  Where shall we go from here?

3 comments:

JayTee said...

I covet those book shelves!

realtor Jay said...

Oh wow, that really is a lot of books. Packing sure isn't an easy task, and to pack so many books must be pretty difficult (and heavy). Well, good luck.

Jay

Valerie O'Riordan said...

JayTee, I miss them so much! we've gone for the 'stacking the books in piles' approach in the new place...

Jay, I tell you, it was a nightmare - but I delegated the lifting to the man of the house - mwuahahaha!