It is lonely, isn't it? Packing? It's hard if you don't have anyone to help you.
I think that's why I'm not helping myself by blogging so much. Calling on Stigmum for support. Or is Stigmum calling on me to write how it all is, how it all feels? Crikey, sometimes it's really difficult to tell us apart.
My flat at the moment looks like nothing's been done. It looks just as cluttered and messy as it ever has done. It was easier at the weekend with Annie and Issy... packing up, tea and chat break, packing..
Stigs, you better let me get on with it.
I'm flipping knackered, so unbelievable shattered. I'll be glad when all this is over. Last night my eyes closed over my dinner. My son asked why I was sleeping. I asked him to run his own bath, I was feeling weak from the 'packing' (no mention of the order) and he told me to lie down and put a blanket over me.
Such a sweetheart my boy, such a sweetheart.
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