Yesterday saw the great box explosion of 2009. Although I've repeatedly been told that I don't have much stuff, I remain convinced otherwise. I'm sick of it all. As far as I'm concerned, we cannot get computer chips into my brain fast enough.
I'm not unpacked entirely, but I have my bed set up, and I know where (most of) my clothes are, and the bathroom and kitchen are usable. That constitutes unpacked for all intents and purposes as far as I'm concerned. The next project is to start scanning all the vital paper documents I'm hoarding and then shredding the paper stuff. If I'm very virtuous about it, I may even be able to ditch the filing cabinet altogether.
My new place is full of light and quiet during the day. It also comes pre-packaged with the nocturnal barking neighbourhood dog and a view of the nearby cemetery from almost every window. A cemetery full, as per usual, of angel statuary. Do you realise what this means? That's right: THERE ARE WEEPING ANGELS OUTSIDE MY WINDOWS. (I am doomed.)