hathycol | (no subject)

Oh, god, I had forgot how soul-crushing packing is. My mum is fairly insistent that I take everything I own with me or alternatively NEVER LEAVE EVER and I've only just managed to talk her into letting me store some stuff in boxes. She was like this is university, too. This is inbetween her crying her eyes out at me and shouting at my sister. There was a fear that moving out was somehow letting my sister win; instead, I have won the long game because now Mum despises Megan for driving me out. MWAHAHA. It is good to be appreciated, albeit only too late. The emotional guilt-tripping from Mum is a bit awful, but I honestly think 99% of it is the horrible realisation that the only child left is the one that doesn't clean and that this was possibly not a good policy to pursue.

Packing, though. Ohgod. I've done quite well in terms of most stuff, I think; all the drawers are empty and the only things left to worry about aremy books. There are six bookshelves I have failed to touch as of yet and won't be doing so until I can fully assess the storage situation in The New Place. That is what Sunday is being put to one side for.

I am, I must admit, painfully tired at the moment. I am having a hideous, hideous day of Unhappy Stomach so I'm bloated and burping a lot, plus my brain is fried. It's constantly whirring away with a list of Stuff I Need To Pack (dear brain, a hint: you are not moving to Scotland, you are moving TEN MINUTES AWAY it is OKAY if you LEAVE THINGS you can PICK THEM UP) and Stuff I Need To Do and random worries that I am making a bad decision, or all sorts of silly things.

So tonight I am having some time off from packing and going to the pub instead. WOOOOO.