She wept quietly in the corner of the rented Schaumburg flat every so often, but there was nothing to be done. She and Mr D were moving back into their long-owned house in the more southerly western suburbs, and so four
There was the shipping container from Poland/South Africa/England -- all the stuff that expateek had dragged along with her, from continent to continent to continent, for seven
And there was the mystery container, full of the things that expateek had deemed worthy of storage for rather a long time. Another two truckloads.
A week ago Monday, the thrills began.
Look, as the moving men come to expateek's street.
They stretch their legs, and have a smoke, as they wait to begin their difficult task. Ever tried to put 17 tonnes of sh** into a 12 oz. sock? Yes, these men know it will not be easy.
After the unloading of the first, Polish shipment, expateek and Mr D rested for a few days, and expateek wondered why she'd been worried. After all, there was still quite a lot of room in the house, and she hadn't stored that much extra stuff... Victory was nigh! Things were all going so well!
And then the second shipment arrived.
Put it there. No, there. Oh, that corner's full? Maybe there. No? Uhhh..... Maybe if you move the extra bookcases from here to there? No? How about there to here? No? Upstairs? No? Basement?
Gosh, sorry guys. This is terrible.
Okay then. The garage. There must be room there?
Meanwhile, expateek is dealing with her inner b**ch as she picks packing stickers off every d*mn thing in the house.
She's surprised she hasn't found one of these blasted things on her a*se.
Oh wait, she has.
No, really, she hasn't.
Totally NOT skin-of-the-a*se. Though clearly, this skin could use a good exfoliating treatment.
Skin of the mid-thigh, people. Don't get all excited. And send me some moisturising creme, pronto.
expateek will show you the things that shouldn't have been packed 7 years ago.