That’s just how it goes, really. I anticipated that I had misjudged my energy levels and tat levels, called Steve, he was up for helping, BAM all the stuff in the flat is now in my new room. Tomorrow I will have a desk, and maybe even a chair.
I was right: I had more tat than I thought, and less energy.
In other news, Hannah is making excellent progress with the pan rack with help from various people. I’ve bodged up a mirror in the bathroom with some yarn and buttons, and then I aligned the toilet seat. Me and Steve have gossiped about knocking out walls and building other walls. (Apparently relatively easy.) Sven is cooking loads of delicious vegetables downstairs in the very lovely kitchen.
We really should move the washing machine downstairs, but everyone is busy and exhausted, and it can wait.
So all I have to do is clean my old flat and then I never have to see it ever again. That will be a relief; I feel like my attention is divided because I have to give back the keys on Thursday or Friday. I dislike having two sets of keys to juggle.