Boxes and bags

It is nearly February 1st, and that means that we are about to become two-timers on our rent money. For a half a month, we'll be in apartment limbo, living in this one but starting to pay rent on the new one.

Next week, we'll start the move to the new place, but it doesn't seem real yet because not a single box has been packed. Where do we begin? I have a worried feeling that we will just end up throwing things into boxes and bags and carting it onto public transportation like a bag lady and a bag mister who just happen to have a bunch of extra boxes and bags, but can't bear to part with any of them and so are wandering around on city busses with their beloved boxes and bags. We might start singing "Feed the birds, tuppence a bag," because we like that song and because we're raggedy like the pigeon lady and also because it has the word "bag" in it.

The last time I packed, I sold most of my stuff in a yard sale in the front lawn of the House of Love, and then fit the rest of it into the back of my dad's minivan for the drive to Vermont. The same will not be happening this time around because 1. we have no minivan, and 2. we have more stuff than is going to fit in a minivan. Also, 3. there is no yard in which to sell things. (Is Europe averse to yard sales? The whole idea seems quite alien in the European context, even in places where there are lawns. Spreading your stuff in front of your house? to SELL? to blatantly attempt to make money by the display and sale of your private things? I think not.)

And also, this weekend we'll be in Barcelona, and Brussels will become but a distant memory, as it tends to do when we head for the mediterranean climes.

When we come back we will have a big treat awaiting for us, which is all of the stuff that is not yet packed into move-worthy receptacles.

So, it is February. And there is some packing to do.