I’m busy ordering feather pillows and silk thermals online for our return to England.
Let’s put that into perspective. We don’t yet have a house to live in.
I think my feather pillows might be a little premature unless I plan to use them to make the pavement more comfy. I have a feeling psychologists might call my shopping for comfort items rather than for a place TO LIVE an ‘avoidance strategy.’ In which case bring on the avoidance strategy. I’m spending hours trying to find a sexy silk thermal onesie when I should probably be searching for two bedroom flats in Zone 2, and the only thing I’ve discovered is that Google fries its own synapses when you try to search for sexy silk thermal onesies. Nothing comes up.
In between searching for onesies I am also single parenting, working full time (I have 3 books to write in 3 different genres for 3 different publishers in 2 different names in 4 months, plus 2 other books to promote at the same time), all while packing up a house to move continents. You may well ask whether I’m taking speed to cope. No, not speed. Valium. It’s a miracle drug.
Anyway, this is to explain why I’ve told John the House Issue is on him. I’m just far too busy to deal with that. After all I’m also packing up HIS stuff that he left behind for me to deal with. Inside the suitcase he tossed his things into for ‘shipping’ I find the following: a stapler, paperclips, pencils, a net bag, a Bintang shopping bag, an eraser, a dry cleaning cover… I could go on but you get the idea.
I stare at the contents of the bag and think ‘hmmmm, we could pay thousands of dollars to ship a box of paperclips and some stationery from Bintang OR I could throw all this away. It’s not like John is going to miss any of this stuff, I’ll just tell him I misunderstood and thought he said that was the bag of stuff for the charity shop.’
I know I’m safe to do this because a) I don’t think he reads my blog and b) when we left England we filled an entire garage with boxes and within three weeks of leaving the UK we couldn’t remember what was in a single one of them, so what are the chances John will even remember about this bag, let alone the contents of it?
I am on a mission to leave Bali with just the 23kg suitcase I am allowed and will ship only one box of books that I cannot bear to be parted from (OK, and a little ganesha statue).
I want lightness. I don’t want baggage. It’s easier than you’d think to do this, because unlike John, I don’t get sentimental about paperclips.
I am giving away all my books and all my clothes. I won’t be needing them after all as I intend to just spend the winter wearing my sexy silk thermal onesie.