Monday, August 11, 2008

I survived

Barely. And that's really all there is to say about this move. Take it from me : moving from 3 apartments (my place, P's place - in storage, and the Barbizon place) to 1 is hell. I had to throw loads away (12 huge garbage bags, and still counting), I had to drive box after box back to my parents (who were not amused), and I still have a few boxes to "give away" (anyone in need of a toaster, a water cooker or a red flower vase?).
Forget all the romance about "moving in together". It was constant war: your vacuum cleaner or mine? Your coffee cups or mine? Your choice at IKEA or mine? Speaking of which, IKEA has seen me for breakfast, lunch and/or dinner this week. And if it wasn't IKEA, it was Mc Donalds. Strangely enough, I still managed to loose so much weight due to stairclimbing, lifting stuff, and simple stress, that I fit back into my oldest jeans.
No, it hasn't been nice. I have felt homeless, and so at loss that I wondered if I indeed was/ am authistic (as P claims from time to time). Maybe it was because this was my first apartment. Maybe because I've never done this before : leaving a place to never return there. Maybe because I couldn't take anymore emotional stress after all that has already happened this year. Maybe because I'm so attached to all the things I gattered through the years. Whatever the reason(s) : I can safely say that I never want to go through something like this again. Next time, I plan to outsource the whole business, and go on a holiday for two weeks. So basicaly, I'm not moving again until I can afford exactly that.... That, and already assembled furniture.

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