6:00 a.m. on moving day. The property manager comes at noon, and the movers at two o’clock. Almost everything is packed: almost everything is clean. I’ve even managed to time it such that I’m moving on garbage day, so I won’t have to drag that one last bag of garbage to the new place.
Dave the property manager is coming at noon to inspect the premises, read the meter, and I guess just generally make sure the drapes and carpets and appliances are all in decent working order. The place looks pretty good – all that’s left to do before he arrives is hoover the living room and give a final swish and swipe in the bathroom.
Everything is packed except for the bed linens (I may be up at 6 am, but someone is still lying on the bed), kettle & tea cup, make-up, and a towel. There is a small bag of food waiting in the fridge, and I’ve eaten everything that was in the freezer except for an Orkney appetizer called Grimbister Cheese and some ginger. The last couple of meals have been interesting – because I had packed all dishes, glasses, and cutlery (I held back a silicone spoon/spatula, a paring knife, and a little side bowl), last night’s dinner of a chicken and sweetcorn meat pie was eaten on the last of the tin foil (works as both a baking sheet and a plate) with the spatula, and served with 3-day old wine in a teacup (I nearly found myself drinking from the bottle before remembering the teacup). This morning’s breakfast is the last 2 pieces of streaky bacon, with the last of the feta, wrapped in the last tortilla. And tea. Always tea.
No matter how much or little you have in the way of items to pack, no matter how carefully you compile lists, no matter how organized you are, there is always that one last box, three-quarter’s full, items still to be jammed in hours before the movers arrive, comprised of a table lamp, two pairs of shoes, shampoo bottles, a frying pan, and three half-used up tissue boxes. Ah well.
I don’t feel any sense of sadness or sentiment about leaving – this was a great little house, and I was so grateful to have found it a year ago, but it wasn’t anything special. I don’t have any dearly-held memories about it, except, I suppose, the fun of decorating it last winter.