Each time I/we move, I begin using up pantry supplies and emptying out the kitchen several weeks beforehand, and I *always* miscalculate, and the kitchen is bare at least 5 days before we're due to leave. And this time, I can't just buy new stuff and offload leftovers in my mom's kitchen.
So our final night in London was spent, not trying to eat all the basmati rice and brussel sprouts out of the cupboard, but making one final trip to Bumpkin.
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| Mmm, sticky toffee pudding for two. |
The following morning, we were up dark and early to make sure all our things were packed up, and we had to go through and make sure that all the things belonging to the flat were exactly where they were two years ago.
Somewhere in the middle of that activity, the sun rose.
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| From the thirteenth floor of our building. |
We survived the inventory review. Although so help me, Inventory Man made me stabby with all the "requires further cleaning prior to commencement." Further cleaning, my ass, Inventory Man. That flat hasn't been cleaner in its whole life--and it was downright filthy when we arrived.
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Do you see that light fixture behind us?
Even THAT was cleaned prior to Inventory Man's arrival. |
Thankfully, I didn't actually stab anyone (probably because the knives that belong to the flat are too dull to inflict a decent wound), and our airport transfer was right on time.
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| Sniff. |
Twenty-four hours later, we had this chaos on our hands.
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| Cranium! |
But honestly, I can't even process or blog about All Things San Francisco yet. Suffice to say that all is very good and very crazy, and we have to go back to the airport now, because for some crazy reason, our NJ relatives would like to see us for the holidays.
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I shall call this a holiday tree.
Just to piss the Republicans off.
Happy holidays! |
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