Most of my apartment is now firmly packed down into moving boxes. There’s a few items left, necessary for survival (such as the coffeemaker and microwave), but other than that, it’s all packed away. I even packed all my movies away, so there’s nothing to watch. (Gotta remember that till next time: Don’t pack the movies!)
Which means that I’m sitting here, staring at these empty walls, and waiting until the hour comes when I finally move away. I’m thrilled, excited, nervous, happy and most of all, I have no idea what I’m doing. It’s a huge step in faith. But I feel comforted and secure in what’s going on.
I keep going over my plan in my head. I always do that. Whenever I do something that requires planning, I run the entire scenario in my head, back and forth, over and over, until I’ve identified all the little things that can go wrong, or contingencies that need to be checked. Which means that tomorrow is final packing day, when every last detail gets sealed in boxes; Thursday and Friday down in Stenungsund to pick up keys and stuff. Saturday morning at 0800 hours I get the truck, 0900 hours we start loading. And my mind keeps planning… we’re four guys – how long can it take? A couple of hours? We’ll need food – where do we eat? Probably best to eat before we leave. McDonalds? Pizza? And so it goes on.
I haven’t said goodbye to my apartment yet. Theoretically I get to keep it until June 1st, which is a bit of a stretch, but that’s the rule: Three months after giving the notice, unless there’s a new tenant that wants to move in quicker. The double rent is going to hurt a bit.
Yesterday evening I went to McDonalds to spend some time there, because it’s so boring at home now. It doesn’t feel like a home any longer. No curtains, no books, no paintings…
Seven years I’ve lived here. A lot of water under the bridges.