I should have started taking before & after pictures of our apartment before assembling about 20 boxes and packing up all of our books and some of our fragile items. The place is in a sort of ordered shambles, with boxes neatly in corners, bare bookshelves against walls, rolls of bubble wrap and packages of unassembled boxes everywhere. It is going to take ages to pack up the kitchen.
My sewing machine sits on the desk, unused, in its beautiful little brocade drape. Maybe after Caspian leaves on Friday, I'll make an excursion to the fabric store to start on my new little projects, which I wrote down in Elena, my planner:
- Cases for ugly brown pillows
- Pillowcases for bed
- Knitting bag
- Scrap bag
- Shopping totes
I also have to somehow eat all of the staples we've stocked up, and I have no idea how I'm going to do that. I have been told that international relocation goes much more smoothly if one doesn't pack food and other consumables.
How am I mind-wise, you ask? Feeling like my life is finally moving again. Slightly hungry and about to eat the dry cereal I packed for a snack. Victorious. Chilly. Feminist. Particularly satisfied by the work I've been doing this week. Happy that thunderstorms are brewing. Equally sad and eager at the opportunity to live and travel alone for a month. While my mate is exceedingly fun to be around, I think we will both enjoy being responsible only for ourselves for a little while, and I'm pretty sure he'd agree with me!
I'm not always the easiest person to be around.
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