Twelve hours of housework

Strangely enough, twelve hours of housework was exactly what I needed. Thank goodness for the new resealable half-litre V. And getting slightly drunk halfway through. Made things go much faster.

I’ve arranged the few miscellaneous boxes I have left in my studio area so I can easily pick them up tomorrow, and I used Anita’s impressively powerful vacuum cleaner to return the colour of my carpet to 2009. Sadly, once I’d removed every object from the room it became apparent just what miserable condition it was in – clean, but damp, and structurally sagging in the corners. Can this be fixed? Maybe in the short term, long enough to flick it onto an unsuspecting buyer.

I filled about a dozen recycling bags with plastic and paper, put all of the unwanted furniture in a single room, and pillaged the kitchen of useful objects. My flatmate returned home at about 11pm and as she watched me dismantling the kitchen, you could see it occur to her that with just over 24 hours until we legally have to be off the property, now would be a good time to start packing. She sidled up to me at one point as I wrestled with the lounge furniture and said “I hope you’re around tomorrow evening to help me shift”. I just looked at her. Over the past few weeks I’ve cleaned and sorted out the entire house. On my own.

I left at about 2pm and walked to the other side of town, exhausted (again) but satisfied that I’d done my best.

Advertisements

Comments are closed.

%d bloggers like this: