Yep. That’s me. Passed out on the floor next to the bed.
Or more like curled up in a fetal position in the middle of the kitchen (where most of the chaos remains).
I’ve found a way to keep track of things and its kinda working, even if the main thing it achieves is to make me feel like I have some kind of plan.
I got out 3 sheets of packing paper, taped them to the living room wall and wrote the days of the week remaining on them and what is meant to happen on those days. That way I can look at one glance and see when something is being picked up. Or what I have to do that day.
The problem is there is still a mess around here and its doing my head in. I look at all the small things piled on the table, on the floor, in boxes that ‘need sorting’ and my brain freezes.
Thank goodness for my friends who turned up here this morning and walked over the place and got everthing that needed to go into the skip for me. Now the skip is almost full but that still has enough space to put in the last minute rubbish I’ll be adding to it as I go through those boxes that ‘need sorting’.
I think the worst of it is the piles of stuff. Or the need for piles. Or designated areas:
This needs to be picked up by xxx.
This needs to be taken to Melbourne
This needs to be packed for Greece by me
This needs to be packed by the removalists
This belongs to Wayne, he needs to pick it up
This needs to be picked up by xxx
…and it goes on and on.
Sometimes I feel like all I ever do is move a box from this room to that room, then to the porch, then back.
It will end soon. I have to keep reminding myself. Less than a week to go… it will be over soon.