Exhaustion boxes.

(A word of warning: the following post is fairly rambling, with run on sentances and everything, and probably quite self-indulgent and boring in its stream of consciousness-ness. That’s what you get when I am freaking out a little bit.)

I’m moving next week.

I start my course at Arts University College Bournemouth on the 27th, but since the lease for my room (I’m in the halls of residence) starts on the 20th I’ll be moving up sometime that week to give me a few days to get adjusted. I don’t know when exactly. Although I should figure it out soon since I’m supposed to tell the university when I’ll be arriving.

It’s pretty fucking scary at the moment. It didn’t feel real at all and until September started, and since then it’s been getting steadily more… well, real. Can’t think of any other words for it at the moment.

I mean, it’s exciting too. I’m looking forward to it big time. It’s just… whew.

It’s also exhausting. I started packing for real today – I’ve been sorting out what I need to take for a while; putting stuff in boxes that can go in the loft, etcetera, etcetera, but today I actually started packing things I’m actually going to take. And it is exhausting. Seriously; I spent today sorting out art materials I want to take from all the crappy art materials I’m leaving, and then I realised I had to buy something to pack them in, so I did, and THEN I put them in one of my new plastic storage boxes and that is tiring, for some reason, and all I have to show for it is one fucking box. (And another empty one, and two cardboard boxes full of books that have to go in the loft, and two plastic bags of clothes that are going to charity and one of stuff to throw away, and very little remaining floorspace.)

Going to continue taking this break, maybe have some tea, calm down, and then start on the DVDs and CDs. Of which I have far too many and will probably need to buy more boxes tomorrow to store them in.

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