Why, oh why do I always leave everything to the last minute? There are 11 days until my leaving date, and only yesterday did The Fear finally kick in enough to make me start panicking and trying to get organised. It’s hard to think about sitting down and writing an even vaguely entertaining blog post when the majority of your house looks something like this:
And that’s the least of it. Eagle-eyed readers should be able to spot the roll of tape hanging from my laptop. This is because it is dying. Dying. I have resorted to taping it together so that all the internal connections are pushed together to an extent where things actually appear on the screen. It’s all very upsetting.
I type this hastily thrown together blog post amidst a sea of priceless (and worthless) possessions, and growing feelings of despair and panic. I’m trying to be ruthless and just get rid of anything I don’t genuinely need. The theory is that everything else will then fit into this:
Excuse me while I laugh mockingly at my own theory. The things you find, though! Carefully collected merchandise… childhood books and toys… notes passed amongst schoolfriends… mix tapes made as a dreamy teenager… gifts received long ago… hundreds and hundreds of photographs…
It is a long, emotional, nostalgic and unsettling process. And some people are just no help at all: