The other day I went into work despite the fact that I am on holiday. I have a lovely big classroom, which also has a small back office. That office, however, has become more of a dumping ground for stuff I don't know where to put. My parents were preparing to move from Jersey to Asheville this summer, so I had to ship the remaining boxes of miscellaneous stuff to the UK. Unfortunately for my bank balance, the US postal service doesn't do overland shipping unless it is in a large container. Everything now is airmail, which is outrageously expensive. Thus, I shipped 3 boxes of photo albums, journals, and various other pieces of memorabilia (including loads postcards I've received from various places and about 100 empty CD cases-I already have the CD 's here) to my work address, as I wasn't going to be back in the UK until several weeks after they arrived. So there they sat getting in the way of everything else. The only time I had to really get back there and make things right is during time off from school.
Matt, being the stellar guy that he is, gave me a ride home with my 3 boxes. I did offer to make him a dinner that I knew he loved, but I adore cooking so it wasn't that big of a deal. My three boxes were safely transported to my flat, but it wasn't until today that I really began to go through them.
Memorabilia is by far the most difficult to put into a place. I have all this stuff that doesn't mean anything to anyone but me. Today I began to make my way through the boxes. I became sidetracked by the journals and pictures a bit, so I'm not nearly finished. The rough draft of a letter I wrote for McP when he moved to San Fran fell into my lap and after I read it I thought how much things have changed since that time. Then I looked at my 3 boxes full of stuff and realised....
I've been living in London for four years and I'm still not completely unpacked.