Moving Out

Packing boxes: scrounged from the container at the back of Pick and Pay Supermarket. Some marked Ceres fruit juice. Small, useful for little things inside bigger boxes. Big boxes of Simba Chips and Rice Crispies. Books in small boxes. Pillows and blankets in big boxes.

Tape. Rolls and rolls of it. Green.

Bubble wrap and paper. Rolls that unwind around paintings (my daughter Lisa is a painter). And wrapping for crockery, glasses, bits 'n pieces.

Dust. Behind the bookcases, and the piano, and the fridge ... And spreading just about everywhere else. If "dust to dust" is true then there are lots of dead people lurking in the corners of this house.

Strong men. The people who are carrying boxes with such ease: boxes that have pulled my back muscles out of shape! But then I have paid a small fortune for this move so let them sweat.

Sleep. None. Packed until 2:30. And up again at 6. Pouring with rain. And a headache.

We have too many possessions. A sleeping bag and spoon & cup would be sufficient.

But the sun has come out. And my head has cleared. And a new adventure beckons.
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