9am: wake up. In denial. Go back to sleep.
9.30am: the guilt wakes me up. Continue to lie there wide awake for an hour, while looking around my room with my short-sighted eyes realising that, as bad as it looks now, once I put my contacts in, there's going to to be soooo much more to pack.
10.30am: eventually get up. Take a picture of the room. Post it on Facebook. Get a lot of comments about how disorganised I am, and people are stressed on my behalf.
Afternoonish: Managed to pack two suitcases, a big box, a couple of binbags and recyclable bags... and chucked out four bin bags.
IT HAS MADE NO DIFFERENCE!!! MY ROOM IS STILL BURSTING TO CAPACITY!
I'm trying not to look at it negatively, as I'm stressed out of my nut, but this new flat move next weekend is one of the best things going on for me right now. Seriously. I'm looking around at my surroundings AGAIN, freaking the fuck out (I gave up around about 9.30pm tonight and let myself have a bottle of cava as a reward, which I just finished), but I know that feeling when I am FINALLY moved and on my own will be the best feeling, a better feeling than I've had in ages.
In terms of the last month or so, that will be a highlight in amongst all the crap. Such as:
- Work stuff. Not going into it but I'm completely sick of being patronised when I know my job inside out and work my arse off. :-(
- I offend members of the opposite sex without even meaning to, and will probably never work out what I've done.
- I do stupid things while under the influence (which probably also relates to my previous point). Last weekend with the lost phone/lost purse/22 year old boy is a prime example.
I move next Sunday.
I can't wait.
I need a clean slate.