...So, what do I do with all her stuff? Take it with me? I will have lots of cupboard space in the new flat...I'm sure I can stash it for another year...
Having said that, the other night I made a small mental list of what I AM going to be keeping:
All cards/postcards/letters
Most presents. Some random rubbish can be thrown out let go (Like the giant lollypop. Although, that mofo is so heavy it could be exceptionally useful as a burglar weapon *thwack* *crack*).
The blue/green/yellow checked boxers.
Maybe the pale/dark blue checked ones. They ween't my favourites though.
The blue vest top she slept in.
Her bandana.
Things I know I will be sending back include:
Her t-shirt from the 1994 World Cup that still fits her. It's very soft and her cousin bought her it. I know she'll want that back.
The penguin boxers.
Turqoise Gap jumper.
There's loads more but I can't remember what's in the pile. Still not looking forward to going through it but the alternative is carrying it around the rest of my life, making sure I always have ample cupboard space. Hmm.
In othe flat news, we have a verbal agreement on a dining room table and four chairs for £25. Bonza. They belong to the person moving out of the flat that the person's flat we're moving into will be moving into. Yep.
I've just bought some St John's Wort. I'm not sure how effective it is but I'm trying it anyway in the hope that it makes me a little less despairing and scratchy. I am feeling quite positive now that I know I'm moving but also trying to ignore the constant niggling 'Where will you live before you move in, and how will you afford it when you do?!' voice. I suppose I better ask my current landlord if I can stay for another two weeks or so at the end of this contract, and then hope that Workmate has moved out by then. If she hasn't, I face around two weeks of traveling from Hull to Grimsby and back every day. This is not a pleasing prospect. I can't bear using that bus more than once a fortnight, let alone twice a day. Eugh, such vile people on it. Plus, it's not just a case of packing a large bag for a couple of weeks at home - I've got 40kg of goldfish related paraphernalia to lug about. Definitely scrapping the idea of getting a guinea pig. A dog would be less trouble.
(Jenna puppy please, Mr Funky. Boy.)
I told my other flatmate that I wouldn't be moving upstairs with her due to the whole moving out thang (not the sickeningly 'nice' one - I haven't told her at all. Whatever). She didn't seem too perturbed - quite excited, in fact. I haven't told the other girl I would've been living with, who already lives upstairs, but then, she never comes down anymore anyway, so she can't be too concerned about my existence right now. None of them really come down anymore, unless they want something. Like the hoover. Or the foil. Or baking trays. I haven't seen them since my birthday two weeks ago, where they all went up to bed without even saying goodnight, after sitting in their coats all night - proving a point about money, I think. I can't say I have any desire to go up there and be met by stony silence and glancing looks, so I guess I'll just see them when they're ready.
I'm feeling a little hormonal which makes me more than a bit bitchy and right now I feel no emotional attachment to anything, bar people I never see, and possibly fudge. And a large vodka. And biscuits. Oh man, I love da biscuits.
