This Week: In the Box
There’s a nervous pup in the lounge room. A couple of bags packed is enough to make him suspicious, but start filling boxes and he gets mighty worried. So much so, he started lying on the pile of flat, empty boxes, hoping to put a stop to all this nonsense.
With Simon in charge of the Shed, I got the rest of the house. We were lucky to move not long after a couple of friends and inherited a decent amount of boxes. Rather than try to work out which texta scrawls were ours, I ‘labeled’ our stuff with pink gaffa, which is easier to spot in a stack of cartons. Fragile tape was put to obvious use, and any boxes marked as such were off-limits to the removalists.
I put aside one Essentials box for each room, to be packed up last and unpacked first, ensuring we had things like toilet paper, washing detergent and the TV remote handy when we arrived.
We sold a few pieces of furniture that would have been a pain to move or didn’t work in the new place, and the rest either went in our car or the truck.
The nervous pup finally realised he wasn’t being left behind and cheered up on seeing his backyard had tripled in size.