The packing lady recognised my anguish. "Don't worry," she said, "it always looks like a lot when it's in boxes."
I stood there, looking at her.
"Really," she continued, "It's taking us a day to get you out of here. In some people's homes it takes us a full day to just box up the kitchen. In some houses, it takes us three days to get the house packed up."
And she was correct: from start to finish, it took them 5 hours to get us out of here, because by about 1 pm they were gone.
But still, I think back to the truck in our driveway, packed to the ceiling with... stuff, and I think, "Jesus."
|There she goes, pulling out of the driveway and on her way to Invercargill.|
And now the house is quiet. The rooms are bare and I am sitting on the floor of the living room, downloading podcasts onto my computer so I can listen to interesting interviews on my way to Invercargill tomorrow.
By tomorrow evening, I will be in Invercargill, in an old weatherboard house close to city centre, cleaning the kitchen, blowing up a camping mattress and then on Thursday, when the truck arrives in Invercargill, I am going to be unpacking.
I am going to be unpacking those 100+ boxes people packed up today.