Had another attack of packing and clearing out on Sunday. All the books from upstairs are packed and I think we're up to 25 boxes now. Just the downstairs books to pack, although that does include Pratchett who'll probably fill three boxes on his own! (I don't mean Mr Pratchett himself by the way).
We also managed to fill three bin bags with rubbish, four if you include the bag containing my wedding dress...
Yup, you read that right. It's a fabulous dress and I adore it, but it'll always be my wedding dress. I'm not binning it before you scream in dismay, it'll be going into the clothing bank at Waitrose. I figured that I could have taken the time to list it on eBay, but I just want it gone with no hassle. It's sharing its bag space with my velvet cloak, and a long velvet dress that I don't think has ever fitted me and would probably only look good on a stick.
I also threw all my wedding photos out. I've still got copies of them stashed on my Yahoo webspace, but I don't want/need paper copies so they've gone too.
It was very cleansing, but also rather scary. I did burst into tears at one point after looking at the wedding photos, but it was because I couldn't actually believe I was ever that girl rather than from regrets. (Which Anthony was very pleased to hear through the sobs).
Last year I kept a sort of diary for a few months. It was basically a list of all the things that had made me feel good that day. It's very cool to look back on it and remember how I was finding myself those first few months. To remember the nights out with Campbelli and Katie, Phil getting rubber bands stuck on his head, and RichieFingers stabbing himself in the head with a stanley knife when answering the phone.
Moving house is just the next step in moving away from the person I was when I was with the Yeti, and the next step into a future of happiness and sunshine.
Update: Silly silly me. I mentioned getting rid of my wedding dress to my mother and promptly got a 15 minute guilt trip. So it will be getting sold on eBay after all. I love my mother dearly, but sometimes I wish she understood me.