You know how, in Breakfast at Tiffany’s, Holly Golightly’s apartment is full of boxes, even though she’s lived there for years? My life has always been a bit like that. But at the moment, the flat is filled with boxes of stuff and it’s a weird experience.
I have moved a lot in my life; in the seven years I’ve lived in Brighton, I’ve moved four times. Every time, I hate it and every time I seem to have acquired more stuff to cart with me to the next place. We’ve been in this flat for four years and in that time, I have accumulated hundreds of books. I don’t know how or why, it’s just seemed to have crept up on me. I took four bags of books and one bag of clothes to the charity shops in Hove on Monday. Inside I was crying a bit. I hate giving away books.
I think I need to admit it- I’m a bit of a hoarder. I don’t know where this tendency comes from.
So now, my entire life is being packed up in boxes, or being given away, or being sent to the tip. And it’s weird, because one chapter of my life- a very happy one, in which I travelled a tiny bit more extensively, got married, decided to start a family- is ending. I’m facing up to the fact that life is starting to change, to get a bit more grown up and that I probably won’t have the disposable income to buy so many books for a good long while.
I’m not saying that this is a bad thing and I’m certainly not complaining. Part of me is in a bit of denial at the whole thing and the other part is pretty excited at all the changes.
I just wish I didn’t have to do the actual moving part. I hate packing.