Firstly I just want to say this: I'm bloody done moving! The apartment I have now vacated was on the third floor and the sunny side of a building clad in sheet metal, making it hotter than hell in a heatwave like the one we're in now. I've spent the past 2 nights packing and cleaning from midnight until morning, because that's the only time it's possible to di anything in there except sit down and cry in a puddle of sweat. Since I moved to my own place at age 15 I've moved 11-12 times, and can I just say that if I have to move ever again, it'll be to soon. And I'm moving again on August 15th. Oh, cock.
Tomrrow I'm off to the Arvika festival, and my entire dinner table is covered with stuff to pack. Honestly I have no idea how we're supposed to carry all our stuff from the car to the campsite. Wheelbarrow, anyone? I am trying to bury my sense of tiredness, lack of energy and heat exhaustion and digging up excitement and joy. Back in 2003 I was so knackered and hungover by day 3 of the festival I spent most of the day crying. Hopefully I've grown up a bit and learned a thing or two about alcohol consumption and common sense since then. As long as I have water, Vitamin C and a pack of painkillers I'll survive. And the prospect of seeing Depeche Mode makes me so psyched I almost pee my pants!
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