It’s finally hitting home that moving house is really happening. Poor Mum doesn’t look happy. She is trying to work out how little she can manage to keep out for using until we are in the new house. It would be better if she could be more like a dog, but it didn’t help when I said that to her. She did at least have the sense to try her old jeans on and realise they didn’t fit, before including them in the ‘must keep out’ pile. I kept saying to her ‘you can pack that,’ as she held each item of clothes up. Then she would reply, ‘yes, but what if…’ On that basis she’d have to put everything we own in the car and that is never going to work.
We didn’t clear the car out as it rained all day. That is now today’s job, along with packing the kitchen. You know things are getting serious when the kitchen is packed away. It’s ok, I’ve kept an eye on where my food is. That won’t be going into store. It’s probably a good job I’m going to kennels just before the removals men start. At least I know I’ll have taken the things I need with me.
At least once the packing is finished Mum has said there will be time to help me finish making the changes I was doing to the diary. It seems ages now since I was doing any. I just hope she can remember where we got up to as I can’t! I’m sure it’s somewhere on her desk, but if you saw the mess she’s got to dig through to pack, you’d understand the problem. Hopefully it will turn up before we need it. I suspect a few other things will turn up that she’s forgotten too.