I'm moving on out

The daunting task of box packing has suddenly gone from priority number 20 in my life, somewhere between unplugging the shower drain and finishing off the photo albums from my trip to South America five years ago, to priority number three. It is now surpassed only by booking a removalist and finding a storage unit for all my earthly treasures.

Just as I was beginning to wonder if I was going to have to consider buying some bunk beds and converting my spare room to a hostel for Japanese students, my seemingly useless real estate agent* found me a tenant! A lovely professional couple who come with glowing references and a cat (hence why they must be lovely even though I have never met them).

They wanted to move in this weekend but after brief contemplation I realised I am not super human and have agreed to next Saturday, 11 December, instead. So the torturous process of packing begins. You will probably notice a lot of blogging over the next week as the packing procrastinaction kicks in.

This time in two weeks I will have moved in with my new roomies (can you call your parents roomies?) and will only be a couple of weeks away from turning 34 and being kind-of unemployed. Serious grounds for writing more depressive 'Memories' related poetry, and yet for the first time since I first asked my boss if I could take six months off work, I am excited. Now it feels like it’s really happening!

The project plan is on track (which keeps my corporate genes happy). If only I could conjure up a box packing fairy, life would be pretty damn good right about now**.

*I really dislike real estate agents. I know that is a general sweeping statement, particularly when I have a couple of friends who are in the real estate game and my own mother used to be one, but, the industry seems to have a gaping hole in its training program that covers the “I work in customer service” component of the job.

I have been dealing with a real estate agent for nearly two months trying to get my property rented. And I emphasise the I have been dealing with them component – if it wasn’t for me making phone calls and sending emails, I would still be waiting for them to upload the photos to the internet. The same photos they had to take twice since the first lady missed the other part of the training program that teaches them how to use a camera. Or perhaps just  how to look at the screen after you have taken them so you can tell if they are crap or not.

**To be perfect I would also need to have already finished work, lost five kilos, be in training for a triathlon and have met the man of my dreams (although since I am about to move in with my parents it probably wouldn’t  be great timing).