The dreaded moment was upon us, where the house must be ruthlessly purged of all dust, dirt and bacteria. I spent three hours cleaning the large bathroom, with half of the time devoted to painstakingly scrubbing pink mound from the grout. My sanity was holding on by a thread, sustained only by Muse, Katie Melua, and perhaps Holyspirit in the code red worship stint.
All that was just cleaning, but I started feeling quite sad when I was clearing my room. I always find the designs on my tshirts are connected to different moments of my life, and when I moved a pile out of the drawer, I was suddenly painful. Despite an emotional farewell to Bole Hills the other day, I snuck back for an emergency break, and lay in a bleach-induced torpor.
That’s it, moved out now. Although without the sense of closure I’d hoped for, as left towels and some toiletries. They will return to their beloved, in time.