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I've started sorting out all my crap. The house is a complete mess, piles of clothes and magazines everywhere, a junkpile near the front door and clothes all over the bed. Its like being a teenager again. I have, however, had a couple of surprises- The Sprite's original ownership papers were lurking in the back of the closet, they SHOULD have been in the filofax that got stolen but they weren't. My Triumph Tigress factory workshop manual. My leopard print G-string (DONT ask, its going straight in the bin)
I also went to visit Andrew last night- I've known Andrew longer than any of my other friends, we met during my first year at Polytech- he was a grumpy old sod with a ponytail and we got along great. (Things have changed since then, now he's a grumpy old skinhead ;-)) Andrew is a hoarder and a serial project abandoner. His house is an insane evolving junkpile, the natural tidying action of the flatmates is all that keeps it liveable sometimes. (I remember Andrew's place when he lived alone- vague pathways through the teetering piles of wood and rescued furniture, temporary wiring and plumbing to trip over...) It'll be interesting to see the boys' reaction to the place when they see it next weekend- my parents arent impressed that i'm moving back in, theyre off buying me a dehumidifier and a lifetime supply of rubber gloves as I type ;-) The room I'm moving back into has been turned into a workroom- its full (and I mean FULL) of wood and tools- and so I gave Andrew a bit of a hurry-up. If I were anyone else he would have dug his heels in and told me to get fucked- but I know him well enough now to get my way ;-) "Hey, Andrew, you figure out where you want me to put all this stuff, write it down, and tomorrow night I'll come and move it all" heh heh, if I know Andrew he wont be able to stand the thought of me moving all his stuff, and the room would have been cleared within hours of me leaving last night...
I also went to visit Andrew last night- I've known Andrew longer than any of my other friends, we met during my first year at Polytech- he was a grumpy old sod with a ponytail and we got along great. (Things have changed since then, now he's a grumpy old skinhead ;-)) Andrew is a hoarder and a serial project abandoner. His house is an insane evolving junkpile, the natural tidying action of the flatmates is all that keeps it liveable sometimes. (I remember Andrew's place when he lived alone- vague pathways through the teetering piles of wood and rescued furniture, temporary wiring and plumbing to trip over...) It'll be interesting to see the boys' reaction to the place when they see it next weekend- my parents arent impressed that i'm moving back in, theyre off buying me a dehumidifier and a lifetime supply of rubber gloves as I type ;-) The room I'm moving back into has been turned into a workroom- its full (and I mean FULL) of wood and tools- and so I gave Andrew a bit of a hurry-up. If I were anyone else he would have dug his heels in and told me to get fucked- but I know him well enough now to get my way ;-) "Hey, Andrew, you figure out where you want me to put all this stuff, write it down, and tomorrow night I'll come and move it all" heh heh, if I know Andrew he wont be able to stand the thought of me moving all his stuff, and the room would have been cleared within hours of me leaving last night...
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