So today I got a delivery of boxes. Empty cardboard boxes. Which wasn’t actually as weird as it sounds because we’d ordered them. Usually when I move house I go to the local supermarket or wine shop and collect up a bunch of boxes to pack everything in to. I’m not usually moving too far or really, with too much stuff. But given that we want everything that is boxed to be stored for over a year in my parents’ loft we figured we’d better invest in some good-ish quality boxes to make sure things stay in a reasonable condition… and also because I don’t have a car at the moment and couldn’t be bothered to carry boxes all the way home from the local supermarket on foot. But mostly the former…. sort of. Maybe.
My other half is away in Amsterdam on a Stag do this weekend (I know, I know! Cliche huh? But I bloody love Amsterdam so I am (not so) secretly mega-jel!). And the flat is a bit of a mess so I know I should spend the time tidying up, organising, and finishing my thesis corrections. NOT unpacking all the boxes, making them up, and spreading them all over the flat when we have lots of people coming to stay next weekend… But they are calling to me! Calling out to me to unpack the packing and prepare to pack… or something.
I think that maybe its because it’s Friday and I don’t really want to spend the evening tidying up… It seems so un-Friday funtime like! (Although in all honesty does unpacking/packing boxes sound any more rock n roll?!)
Watch this space.