I'm cream-crackered (that's rhyming slang for 'very tired') after having emptied our room of all the shit we owned, and prepared said shit for transport.
I'm not ruthless enough for a mover; I can't let anything go.
"But who knows when we'll need a GCSE Maths textbook, or a Henry the Eighth costume? We shouldn't throw it away!"
I can't let it go.
As well as general moving anxieties, I'm not looking forward to being without internet access for a couple of weeks, whilst we wait for BT to pull their fingers out (and probably something to do with wires as well).
I'm going to feel very cut off from the world. I know it's stupid, as it's not like I'm part of some vibrant internet community. The biggest things I'll miss will be obscure acquaintances on Facebook changing their status to something badly spelled, or message board discussion over whether John Cena is brilliant or Satan. He's brilliant, by the way.
Of course, I can go to internet cafes, but it's really not the same. I can't really concentrate (or maintain an erection) of the public is overlooking my every move.
The worst thing is I won't be able to post any enlightening blog entries while I'm offline! I think I might keep an offline diary, and then post it in one long puke when I'm connected again.
Perhaps the coming weeks will be the most entertaining of my life! I might find a sock!
No comments:
Post a Comment