Am I the only person in the world who hates packing?

I hate it. Not a strong dislike. Not an aversion to it. I absolutely fucking hate it.

Its just so much hassle. You have to get all things out of the places you've managed to wedge them into. You have to decide what you're keeping. Make a pile for the things going with you and another for the charity shop. You have to pack it all up. Then you've got to get the stuff from your old place to your new place where you unpack it all over again and wedge into new spaces, you have a fit because you think you've given all your good stuff to the local oxfam, then have another fit when you realise the tat you've unpacked is the good stuff and its all you have to show for 28 years on this earth. I'm exhausted - and angry - just thinking about it.

Last night I went to sleep on a bed that was piled high with clothes I'd managed to get out of my wardrobe but not into the suitcases and cardboard boxes I had ready for them. It was just too much like hard work. As it turned out they made the bed fairly comfy - apart from the jeans that ended up on my pillow and left a button mark on my face. Its gone down a bit now but until around nine this morning I had a diesel indentation on my right cheek.

So the big move has begun. Noelle and I have to be out of our apartment by the end of the month - which is Sunday - and I really don't know how such a small place can contain so much crap. Its not even like we've a huge amount of storage space. Apart from some wardrobes in our bedrooms, a few shelves and some kitchen presses, there doesn't seem to be anywhere else to put things. But there must be. Because every time I open the front door more rubbish has appeared in our living room and the presses still aren't empty. I'm thinking of leaving it all behind to let the landlord deal with. I swear I've never seen half the stuff before. Anyone in the market for an M people cd, a pair of roller blades or a pair of sparkley trousers popular circa 2001?

And here's the other thing. Why do landlords get so fecking shitty about their precious apartments when you're leaving. When you're living in them they couldn't care less if the shower isn't working, the toilet is blocked or the washing machine has flooded. They'll take their sweet time about sending out someone to sort it - normally after you've made ten nice calls before threatening to stop the direct debit for the rent. (I may be generalising a tad here - I've only rented the one place and lived at home - my mum's a right bitch.) But you know what I mean.

All of a sudden because the place is being vacated the landlord suddenly starts issueing a load of essential jobs that have to be carried out if you want your deposit back. Its imperative the presses are cleaned inside and out, not to mention getting the stain out of the carpet - that was there when you moved in! Yeah. I should have taken a picture of the stain three years ago because it looks like its going to cost us a hundred euro or so. It seems to me he just doesn't want to pay for cleaners to do the place up for the next tenants he'll be overcharging.

Anyway I'm just venting because I drank a bottle of wine as a distraction method before falling asleep on the clothes which I still have to pack- not to mention the fact I lost the toss and have to clean the oven. First time for everything!

I'm really getting to enjoy our Friday sessions lads - and Adelle - I feel like we're bonding. It also gets me through the slump between coffee break and lunch.