I Hate Packing

Have I mentioned that? I've mentioned that. Yeah. I hate packing.

Today I'm starting on the task known as Working Out What Is In All Those Blasted Boxes. I have boxes of stuff - that's the only way to describe it. Papers I need. Papers I don't. Photo negatives from high school. Random items that have become jumbled together, like a small plastic bag containing three candles, an AA battery, a decorative teddy bear and a comb. Bags of untouched toiletries from some forgotten birthday. Bags of half-used toiletries that got lost in a move and turned up again years later. Six kinds of notepaper because it always goes missing. Broken coathangers. Lone socks. Scraps from notebooks. Scrappy notebooks. It's a MESS.

Some of the boxes are largely unchanged - apart from frantic I-can't-find-that-mathom rummaging - since my friend Jenna helped me turf things into boxes at the last minute when I left Sydney. There's good stuff in there that I bought, lost and forgot all about. And there's heaps of crap in there too because every time a friend helps me move house they do well-meant things like assuming that my paper recycling pile needs to be packed, so the same throw-away stuff ends up in boxes again, and again, and again.

It HAS to be sorted. I refuse to keep lugging the refuse of the last 5 years around with me. But oh man it's giving me a headache trying to get through it all! I have to look at every single item and every single piece of paper and decide whether it it's 'keep' or 'throw', and if it's keep, I have to work out where to put it.

I'll be so glad when it's done - it'll be awesome. But for the time being? GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH