six days seven nights

I've always hated packing for trips. I fear forgetting to bring my passport or more importantly, my underwear [which has happened before].

I've always loved springcleaning the junk that I hoard -- photos, Christmas cards, costume jewellery, cute little bottles, magazines, Dirty Dancing cassette tapes, Doraemon figurines -- because of the memories they invoke.

With the Big Move scheduled tomorrow for fengshui reasons, I have been ordered to pack at least enough clothes and toiletries for a week. The family will be going on a six day seven night holiday to our new place in West Coast. [I'm moving too because my current place is going to be rented out and I will only get the keys to my very own place in Chip Bee in June. And also to appease my mother.]

Packing for the Big Move has been pretty trauma-free, so far. Dumped all my clothes into suitcases without even taking out the hangers, just like how people in movies pack when they skip town in a hurry. There was no anxiety about accidentally forgetting to pack anything, cos I can always just come back for it.

While sorting through some boxes at the back of my cupboard, I unearthed a stash of crisp $50 "bird print" notes and a well-fed piggy bank. I think it was my angpow money from 20 years ago. Just like that, I'm $300 richer.

In other news, I went for a BBQ at Chip Bee last night, the farewell do for a couple who are moving out. They were so nice to invite us to introduce us to the neighbours. Once again, I was told that I look like Ah Girl.

As I sat under the fairy lights, nibbling a chicken drumstick and playing with the neighbour's fluffy poodle, I found it hard to grasp the reality that this could possibly be my life very soon.