House pride. Or lack thereof.

Sure as I am that I've mentioned this before, I absolutely despise the notion of packing up one's belongings, only for them to have to be unpacked a mere couple of hours later at their destination.

Except my most recent case of gathering together my worldly possessions and relocating them involved many hours packing boxes, transporting them a mere 6 miles, and stacking them in an organised pile against a wall ready to be unpacked. Unpacking should be complete in around 6 months, if my record is anything to go by.


In case you aren't aware, I spent my first term at university living out of my suitcase, utterly convinced that the dons were soon to realise their mistake at offering me a place and send me packing. Naturally, I wanted to be in a position to just get the hell out of there as soon as that happened. Luckily for me (in more ways than one) that didn't happen and I did indeed unpack fully at the beginning of each term after that. Unsurprisingly, it took a while to master getting it all done in one fell swoop. 2nd term of first year, I was unpacked by around 5th week. Summer term, managed to do it before my first lecture.

Alas, you get the picture. I'm rubbish at packing and unpacking above a speed of one box per day. And as is the norm, blog posts, facebook and unnecessarily long emails take precedence over emptying that box that I keep stepping over en route to the kettle.