Ok, not really. I've lost count. But this will be the sixth move in the UK. The second one in 14 months. Ew. Double Ew. Just moving down the street. Bring your Ikea blue bags and get ready to break your back - where having a moving party! What?? No one can come? Out of town? On holiday? Having a bowel movement? Darn. I understand. I hate moving, too.
On the plus side, this new place doesn't have stairs. No wicked, twisted, tiny Victorian staircase to navigate. It's a wide open bungalow - six rooms on one level. How grown up are we?? Not very, but we got lucky with this one - I was the first to see it and said yes on the spot.
Is it time to purge? Some would say moving is exactly the time to do so. Some (well, me) would say just throw it all in a bag and worry about it later. We'll see what my head says on the day.
I know I won't read all of those books. I know my tastes in music has changed. I know alot of those clothes don't fit. Why do I want reminders of my failed experiments? Like my wetsuit from triathlon days (I was SECOND to last, thank you very much). How often am I likely to swim in a cold lake? Jump in one, perhaps.
Gotta pack - later tater.
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