Weirdly, I’ve been getting excited about packing up my life but I blame this on my lack of a social life and possibly, a condition the psychologists out there could explain.

Now that I have resigned, the mundane chore of packing up my furniture, organizing storage and selling my car are underway, I realize the aforementioned excitement was entirely misguided and I’m moderately concerned for my mental well being for even thinking this would be fun.

Let’s start with cardboard boxes: where does one find said cardboard boxes within which to store ones shit? God alone knows. I’ve resorted to using garbage bags.

Next up – cancelling mobile phone contracts. It’s easier reading Homer’s Iliad with 2 cataracts and a hangover than, firstly, getting through to your service provider let alone explaining that you don’t need a contract anymore. Think it may be easier switching off a life support machine than cancelling a voice plan.

Let us spend a moment thinking about storage units. Oooh, storage units, shit that’s exciting. What’s the right size? Is it 9 square meters? 12 square meters? Considering the price difference is astronomical and that 3 extra square meters can buy you a small island in French Polynesia, this is an important thing to get right. But, fuck it – I went for the smallest one anyway. If you need furniture, I’ll most likely be giving away anything that doesn’t fit into my shoebox when I take occupation of it.

Next up for a shave: travel insurance. This is a funny one for me. It’s an absolute necessity because I have irrational fears about being castrated by accident in a foreign country if I get admitted to hospital for a burst appendix. Not too sure why I worry about this considering the distance between one’s testicles and their large intestine, but welcome to the three ring circus of my mind. I digress, however. I decided to research all the travel insurance options out there: I bet you can’t wait to read my post on “What travel insurance is best to protect one’s testicles”. Hahaha, alright, this paragraph may be a little exaggerated for comedic effect 🙂

Finally, selling your car. Trading it in at a dealership isn’t an option as you’re going to get a shit price, and I’m not in the movie of being ripped off. What options does this leave me? The obvious is selling it privately. This means Gumtree or Craigslist.

I don’t like taking unnecessary risks. But I also don’t like getting ripped off. Thus, I find myself conflicted. I have nightmares about meeting some guy in a car park to go for a test drive, being drugged, locked in the boot and having to re-enact a scene from Taken 3 trying to break out of my boot.  Step one: kick out the light. Step 2: Become religious. Step 3: Put on a Liam Neeson accent.

Bugger that. I’m more of a lover than a fighter. Actually, I’m pretty shit at both of those things anyway.

Feel free to provide any tips in this regard or to just save me the pain in the arse and buy my car.