August 25th 2018
Today we stepped up the moving-house-process by absolutely obliterating our current home. What was previously carpet is now cardboard, what was previously a duvet is now a pile of clothes, and what was previously a sofa is now the dumping ground of Alice’s handbags.
Twenty eight, she had. We counted.
Twenty eight handbags. That’s one for every fortnight in a year. Or, as my Mum put it “one for every day of the week, plus a couple spare”
Although it didn’t feel like we had too much stuff to sort through, whenever we opened a new cupboard it would vomit a load of new junk all over the floor, plus about three new handbags.
Because we’re moving back in with our respective parents, we’re not going to have as much room for all our crap, so we’ve had to be brutal with our packing. We currently have a tri-pronged attack method of dealing with binbags: one binbag is for rubbish, one is for charity shops, and one is for keeping. It’s not a particularly efficient method, as differentiating between distinct and plain black binbags is difficult, and the contents all just look like junk anyway.
But we’re getting there. Because there’s crap everywhere, the house doesn’t look empty yet, and it’s that bit that I’m afraid of. Right now it’s a mess of boxes and binbags, but at least its full.
Until tomorrow, seeing it empty will be the hard bit.