Monday 14 October 2013

Nothing remains as it was. If you know this, you can begin again, with pure joy in the uprooting - Judith Minty

So there's progress tonight. Real progress. Boxes have been packed. Things are starting to form organised piles in my lounge. I now officially have a home to go to. Ready and waiting for me on my return. With a view over the harbour and into the sea. Just as I dreamed.

And I have a date for the pick-up of my furniture. Finally. It's been a tad tense waiting for confirmation of the date. For no reason other than that I needed to organise permission from the Town Council to park the removal van outside the house. Not complicated, but with deadlines to respect. The transport company cut it fine, but I now hope I can slip my application in without too much hassle. Between more boxes.

I'm actually enjoying the packing. My new landlord sent me photos of my new home and I've mentally placed everything. I'm also being very strict about throwing out what I don't believe is absolutely vital for my well-being. The pile is growing. Although I admit that things do sometimes join the pile only temporarily. My indecision is final...

It is without doubt very therapeutic going through your affairs. Tidying things up. Sorting things out. I foolishly believed I was living sparsely. Aside from my books, of course. But they're an addiction. And I don't apologise for them. Still my belief turned out to be erroneous. Foolish. And very far from the truth.

Seriously, how do you accumulate so much "stuff". So very much. How can any of it be necessary to my existence? And if it is, what on earth does that say about me??

But maybe that's a topic for another occasion. When life is more stable. And I'm not crying into my coffee over how many more boxes of books are left to pack...

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