I have moved house 7 times in the past four years. Seven times. You would think that I would be good at it by now but more and more I find myself packing things and moving them and then just…never unpacking them. I found stuff during the last move that I didn’t even remember taking out of Cornwall in the first place, let alone shuttling through 5 different houses in the meantime.
I am sick of packing. I am sick of sorting and clearing and cleaning and being snuffly from the dust and weepy from the memories. I want to throw it all in a black bag and start afresh. Not many people actually do that tho, and I am no exception. I will do 90% of the clearing with determination and vigour and the remaining 10% I will shove it bags and haul it into the loft in my parents house, hoping that they don’t decide to open the hatch any time soon because the avalanche that will follow will surely maim them if it doesn’t kill them outright.
Having hauled all my stuff out into the harsh light of inspection, I’m starting to think that I either have an unknown bulk buying habit or shopping amnesia & so I present to you:
Things I Have Found That No Girl Needs This Many Of:
- Tampons. So. Many. Tampons. All hermetically sealed thank goodness but seriously, there is a limit on how many of these a girl needs through the course of a year and I seem to have enough to last me a lifetime, but not a single tampon box to put them in. Odd.
- Notebooks. I am not joking when I say I have a shoebox now full of empty notebooks. Nor does this knowledge stop me from drooling over the new notebooks in Paperchase every time Q lets me go in. (which is becoming more and more infrequent, I think he’s cottoning on..)
- Knitting needles & balls of wool. If you don’t knit anything ever any more then it’s not a stash it’s just a giant playpen for your cat.
- Tweezers. I have, at last count, 5 pairs of tweezers. I only have two hands.
- Toothbrushes. I have found four in the clear out. Who ever needs four toothbrushes all to themselves?
- Bottles of gin. Three bottles of gin is too many for a couple where only one person drinks gin. Oops.
It’s been good in a way. I’ve had the chance to go through everything, to slim down what I own and work out what I need. (the last time I moved it was in rather a rush and I just shoved everything into bags and carted it down the M5 where it’s sat ever since, mocking me slightly.)
I’ve thrown away cards from ex boyfriends I can no longer stand and mascara that I bought in 2005. Primark jumpers that were bobbly and socks that had holes in. Things that you keep just because they’re your things. All manner of detritus has been swept away in the Great Move of 2010 and it’s been quite therapeutic.
(I can say that now, I’m almost at the end. Just please don’t call me on it and ask me to do it all again, I’ll weep.)
Luckily for me now I am moving in with a level headed boy. I don’t think Q will let me buy duplicates of things I already own, so maybe next time I move (hopefully with him!) it won’t be such a ‘what the fuck?’ process all round. We’ll be methodical and calm and I guess if not at least I know where I can find plenty of gin.