So, I now have 15 days left until I move, and I'm having to face up to the depressing fact that I have, in fact, not changed an iota of a jot since I was 19. All that stuff about the wisdom which experience brings, growth and personal development, all bobbins. If one is essentially, a bit lazy, highly flaky, impulsive, easily distracted and given to prevarication on an epic scale it is kind of carved in stone and not going to change whether one is 19, and about to set off for university, or, umm, not quite 19 any more, and about to set off for a new job, and a whole new life. 2012, year of the new improved, spangly, more confident, brave and all round awesome sauce Clem. Well it would be if I could stop getting into a tail spin about what nail varnish to take with me and actually do something useful.
Here is a list of the things which I should have done in the past seven days.
1) Get rid of at least 200 books. Box up the 50 books which I'm taking with me and send them off to Whitby.
2) Burn all CD's to iPod, get rid of CD's. Actually, this is nearly done. A friend has just left the house with 90% of my CD's, a sauté pan, 7 cook books, an electronic juicer, a pepper mill, and 15 novels.
3) Contact local charities and see if they have any use for various white goods.
4) Get rid of 90% of the small branch of Boots' which is my bathroom. They have shops in Yorkshire. It's not as though I'm moving to the land that Clinique forgot.
5) Tackle the cupboard of doom. Everybody has one. It's not a euphemism.
6) Cancel the Sky subscription.
7) Reduce the mountain of craft supplies. Again, there are wool shops in Whitby.
8) Sort out the carnage in the garden. Again, not a euphemism.
Here is a list of the things which I have actually done in the last seven days.
1) Got The Bounder to cancel the sky subscription.
2) Got horribly unecessary on Long Island Ice Teas, smoked half a packet of filthy fags, and fell asleep in the garden. Woke up under a duvet, wearing pyjamas which I have no recollection of even owning.
3) Bought more wool and fabric.
4) Spent an accumulative total of at least twelve hours in the bath. Obviously this does at least go some way of tackling the cosmetics overload situation, but is mainly, just because I can lock the door on the rest of the world and read regency smut. I can also gaze upon the rows of nail polish and sigh, and put off making any kind of decision.
5) Knitted two thirds of a sock for a very good and kind and funny man.
6) Spent far too much time talking to a man who is neither good nor kind, but who is also funny, but in a very wrong way, and who is also a terrible pervert. I must stop doing this immediately. I do not need the approval of terribly bad men, no matter how handsome. Unless, of course, they are the actual Russell Brand and then we can rebound together. Just realised that I probably wrote that last bit, pretty much word for word in my diary when I was 19. It didn't lead any place good then, and it won't now. Slaps self quite hard, but in a "wake up to yerself you dozy wench" way rather than in a pervy " who's your Daddy? " way.
7) Pondered whether the Joan Holloway look would be a hit in new job. Spent a lot of time looking at the necessary support garments on line. Also seamed stockings.
8) Made a fairly wrong comment about fisting in the stockroom at work. I was wearing fairy wings and a tiara at the time and doing an enchanting dance. Not sure if this ameliorates the situation.
9) Become a bit fixated on the minute details of my present job.
10) Had epic level panic pretty much all the time, just not enough to spur me into actually doing anything useful.
If anybody reading this wants to get in touch and tell me to put down the nail polish and pick up the packing tape, it would be muchly appreciated. I will pay attention I promise. Once I get out of the bath, and decide what to wear to my leaving drinks extravaganza on Friday.
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