Well, it's been 4 years, 4 weeks and 1 day since Soph and I moved into 1/22 Selwyn Avenue, and now it's only one day until I move out. When we moved in I wondered where it was I'd be going to when the time came to move out - and as it turns out, I'm moving nowhere.... and I perhaps overstayed just a little.
I'm drinking bad Rose out of the only mug that hasn't been packed (because it's not mine) with the debris that I'm paralysed to deal with around me on the floor. Inventory: 1 broken plastic crocodile (RIP Chompy), a packet of Zantac, a vaccum (tipping will be required tomorrow when the furniture goes), a packet of stale chips, a laptop, a box of tissues. Boxes, oh many boxes. Suitcases, and a backpack.
Only time will tell if the decision to become a displaced person is the right one. I flick between unbridled excitement, thinking that six months won't be long enough and a feeling of impending disaster...
Before then I have to get through the next three weeks and four days without my sister killing me and being sure to always always always screw the lid on the cordial bottle tightly after I've put it pack in the cupboard..... and then, the world.
Shelley, this "rod" is dedicated to you. Hook me up with your publisher.
