My all-time nemesis

Many of you who know me would know that I am secretly a very unorganized and messy person. I may look very neat, but seriously, you are too gullible if you didn’t know that looks are deceiving.

One of my greatest nemesis is moving houses. Yet for some reason, I am forced to move houses time after time again. Since I was a kid, my family and I have moved and lived in more houses that I can count. I’ve never ever been able to wrap my head around “Oh, I’ve lived here all my life”. What? What does that even mean? Not just moving across the street, but I’ve moved across oceans. I’ve pretty much lost everything from my childhood, heck, nothing I have dates back further than 3 years I reckon. Maybe except my passport and ID….

Just the thought of moving houses automatically results in a frown and a headache on my part. Now recently, R decided to move apartments. And he asked me to help. “Sure!” was my answer but deep down, I knew I had to run. But eventually, all excuses ran dry and I ended up standing in the midst of carton boxes and shit. A shit load of shit. And I think I shat my pants a little too. I’m not too sure, my memory seems fuzzy. Like after you’ve encountered a traumatic experience, your mind helps you recover by simply forgetting it.

I think I put about 3 items into a box. And I probably stood there pretending to be useful. But alas, my efforts were uncovered and R sympathetically asked me to simply throw out the rubbish. Oh yea, that’s much more familiar territory. I can throw things away. Hey! Let’s just throw EVERYTHING away so we don’t have to pack. Or unpack. Let’s just buy new crap again! What a wonderful plan. I am amazing.

"Ok. You should just sit here and watch TV."

"Oh…. Sorry I’m not much help." *But secretly, YESSSS!!! mission accomplished! Pat on the back*


Okay, I hope you’re not reading this post. If you are, I mean, I REALLY WANTED TO HELP AND I DID TECHNICALLY PUT SOME THINGS INTO SOME BOXES………… *insert cheesy grin*