So by this time next week will be in the last leg of my flight to Lisbon. All that would be left would be to land, file through baggage claim, passport control catch a taxi to my Airbnb rental, maybe buy a grande agua and a snack, shower then sleep for 14 hours until the next morning. Track down a coffee and get to know the Graca and Alfalma neighbourhood I will be staying in.
That is the easy part, before then I am tidying the last remains of my life here away.
My bedroom furniture and computer need packing, the last bibs and bobs clearing out.
I still have a bunch of clothes to store or gift after several purges already thinned it out by half.
My pack down test worked and I admit I’m rather useless at wringing the clothes till they gasp for air or mastering the fine art of backpack tetris but the main pack hit a modest 16 kgs. Although I have gone full retard and brought a jacket or coat for every season (just don’t even ask..) distributed between my cabin luggage and my Macpac Orient Express everything fits, just.
I worked up a sweat trying to get the damn thing zipped, but with much pleading, coercing and massaging it closed. It was a windy day and my door kept slamming shut, so I had left it that way, there was a knock at my door. It was my flatmates girlfriend very thoughtfully wishing me safe travels as she might not get the chance otherwise. She was confronted with me red-faced out of breath and prickles of sweat forming answering the door.
I decided explaining I had been wrestling zipping up my luggage *not* wrestling with myself and zipping up my pants was not going to help matters. Considering moments before I had spent 20 minutes in the bathroom with a dust-buster enacting a storm of biblical proportions upon a plague of flying ants that had some how manifested. I am lucky my housemates weren’t escorting me from the property with burning torches and pitchforks for my imagined deviant behavior by this stage.
Now after packing everything away do I realise my toenails could do with a trim, I glance at my securely packed and tied down Macpac Orient Express and sigh.
I then schemingly wonder what I could get rid of to fit my hair straightener.