One always has more stuff than one realizes, and one only realizes when it is time to pack. I spent the day packing and I am tired and stressed about whether all my stuff will fit into the U-Haul tomorrow. But, as per tradition, I am going to write a short post as it is my last night in a house. It just occurred to me that this is the first time I am moving out of choice. My last move was because I was leaving the UK, the one before that was because I couldn’t wait to move out after finishing my PhD to escape house mates from hell. Which is a choice, I suppose. The two moves before that were because my live-in landlords soured on me. This apartment is quite comfortable and my only major grouch is that its floorboards are very creaky, and my upstairs neighbour has a heavy tread. If they had agreed to move me to a top-floor pond-facing apartment I might well have renewed my lease. My job is only for another year, so there were perfectly reasonable reasons to stay put. But, I went with my gut and decided not to move out of this perfectly decent apartment to a city that I keep telling everyone is a mini Bristol. New car, new apartment, lots of changes happening in life.
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