I’ll name you later, post.

I am tired.  So tired.  I am pretty sure that whatever lurgy has been haunting me has finally caught up.  And I have to move tomorrow.  And I’m still not packed.  I can’t believe how not-packed I still am.  I mean, in reality, it’s about another 3 or so hours work.  I have to pack the kitchen stuff that’s been in immediate use – plates, mugs, etc, and the food.  oh, and some of my craft stuff, but that’s just a case of stuffing it into a bag.  The toughest part is all the little random things around the house that aren’t big enough for a box of their own, even as a category, but are thigns I use every day.  Lip balm.  Book I’m reading.  Needle sizer.  You know.

However.  I have been trying to squeeze in some introspection in between the freak outs.  I realised that today is the last day that I will walk out from my unit and catch the bus.  Thank God.  I am sick of looking at the same people every morning – way sicker than I thought you could be of something like that.

Which is to say, I thought of some more things I will and will not miss.

Will not miss:

:: The commute.  Packed bus, not long enough to do anything, too long to really be speedy.  If I catch the bus at a more reasonable time (ie, after 8) it’s really crowded, and the traffic is terrible.  The bus driver often misses my stop – just drives right past it – leaving me to yell out from the back behind a crowd of disgruntled people.  Which makes the whole thing more of a drama than a 15 minute bus ride ought to be.

:: The car alarms.  Don’t get me started!

Things I will:

:: Whoever it is who has moved in upstairs and practices violin on Saturday mornings.  They’re really good.

:: The IKEA knife-magnet and bar with s-hooks on in the kitchen.  I will miss this a lot.

:: The constant cycle of hard rubbish out the front of the building, and out the back near the huge skips we have for rubbish.  Current count: out the front, someone’s pantry and an old washing machine.  out the back, the base of a mattress, a bed head, a coffee table, a beat up dressing table.  Keeps it interesting, you know?

I think it might be a two coffee day.  Kate it tired…


Whadya reckon?

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