1 week to go

When you're sitting in the empty shell that was once your bedroom with boxes that say stuff like 'fragile' (damn, now that I've typed it I've realised I spelt fragile wrong on some of my boxes!) and 'keep off the ground', it gives you time to reflect. Apart from realising I can't freakin' spell, it's kind of hitting home that I'm moving. Well, more like packing up my life and moving to the other side of the world.

Then other things pop into my head. And wait for it, they're pretty deep. For example, I know that instead of packing the final bits and pieces before the removalists come I am just going to throw them out cause I can't be arsed finding somewhere to put them. Then I start thinking 'why didn't I just throw all of my clothes out - is stuff with sequins on it still going to be fashionably acceptable in 20..?' Or 'when I come back will I really be glad that I kept 50 000 coathangers and my tiny bins that don't hold jack?' See? Told you - deep.