7 Years, many boxes

Is summer in London, all I can see outside are the clear blue skies, people drinking Pimms and lemonade at the pubs, girls that had bought sandals, shorts and dresses since April, are finally happy to be able to wear them now that is warm enough, and basically everyone at the park taking sunbaths (is no one working??). Laughter, sunny days and sunglasses.

My situation is a big different at the moment. Yes, I’ve taken the sun at the park and Yes, I have drank Pimms and lemonade with friends, but right here at home is not bright and sunny, but awfully dark and cloudy.

The reason is simple: Boxes.

We are now packing, and even though we managed to sell some of our stuff, our flat is full of big, heavy, dark boxes that are sitting there all the time, open and miserable, reminding us that we have a lot of useless stuff that we should get rid of, but instead, we decided to keep and pack.

I have been living a lot of years in London, but now that I have gone through my things to decide what to take with me and what to give away, I have realized that all these years I have been drunk. Otherwise, how could I explain the amount of crap that I have bought and kept through all these years? I really need help, but I’m googling Compulsive Crap Buyers Anonymous and apparently no one else in the universe buys so much crap, that is need of help, like me. Shopaholics Anonymous will have to do.

Between the stuff that I found there’s a giraffe tiara (?), a blonde wig, a pirate wig, a Kaleidoscope that I bought for an after party, 30 pairs of shoes, a full box of stripy socks, 25 bottles of hair products, fake long cigarettes that I used for pretending to be Cruella Deville and a sweater that my mum wore when she was in uni, a real keeper!

In the last visit to the charity shop just in front of our place, I found out that they have a room full of stuff up to the ceiling, waiting to be organised and put to sell, but most of that stuff is ours, apparently is too much for them too…

Last night I managed to close the sixth box, then this morning I reopened them and organised everything again in 5! 5 impossible to carry boxes, that have as many things inside as Felix the Cat has in its bag and all of them about to explode. Plus, another 4 humongous bags that I would take with me.

Then the guy from the international moving company was about to arrive so I was still jumping on the boxes, trying to squeeze them as much as possible and sticking everything with tape, and my boyfriend was just standing in front of me, trying to figure out how to help me, but I asked him to stay away:

He should never find out that I managed to keep and pack my awesome Cruella Deville long cigarette, among other useless stuff without the ones my existence would have no meaning 😉



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