When the mover comes around

Today is the day that the last two weeks have built up to. The moving company is in and they’re packing up the house. They’ll finish packing today and then load everything into a container tomorrow, which means one night surrounded by boxes and then life in an empty house apart from a couple of suitcases.

This relocation has been more organised than any previous relocation. I may have said this before; please excuse me as I’m running on Gummi Bears, Alpen Light bars, instant coffee and very little sleep. As always at this stage I feel oddly redundant. I mean, this is my stuff that these guys are packing up, and I’ve invested almost all of my time recently to getting the place into a state to make it easy to pack. And now I’m just sitting on a bare mattress with my laptop next to me with nothing to do. I occasionally venture out, ostensibly to get a drink or to check if they need anything, but actually to just feel involved in some way. The worst thing is that I can’t just sleep like I really really want to.

A couple more hours and it will all be done. Then tomorrow morning it’s the long-prophesied Visit To The Embassy, at which point our heroes’ quests will be complete as they hold aloft the fabled Visa Stamp allowing entry to the legendary United States of America.

Then sleep, we will. For days.

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