Once upon a time, the hubby and I would have spent a bank holiday weekend out and about with friends, most likely clubbing or spending all afternoon and evening in the pub.
Not any more.
These days we enjoy such delights as packing up our house ready for the forthcoming move to France.
Only it’s not much of a delight, is it?
To compound the situation further, we were sorting out belongings for three different experiences. The first is the stuff that is to go into long-term storage while we wait for our new house purchase to complete; the second is the stuff we are going to need while we are renting in France; and the third is what we’re going to need here until we move. Blimey, I hope I’ve got it all down right otherwise we could find ourselves in all kind of weird and wonderful predicaments.
Any how, the whole experience has been quite horrendous (and it is not even finished despite being at it for two full days). Horrendous. But enlightening.
What I have learnt is this:
- We have way, way, WAY more belongings than I thought we had
- The 40 cardboard boxes and huge role of bubble wrap I had ready and waiting was not enough
- We have lots of things that don’t fit neatly into boxes (very annoying)
- We are not going to be able to fit all of our boxes in the Luton van that we have booked to take our belongings into storage (car boot, it is then)
- The hubby thinks drinking beer and playing on the Playstation counts as “packing” (it does not)
- Packing is exhausting and results in both of us falling asleep on the sofa in front of tv
- Packing uses muscles that I didn’t know existed (and consequently I can’t move the following day)