yay, boxes!

I've always liked moving house.  The prospect of new beginnings usually far outweighs the feeling of leaving things behind.  Perhaps it's just because being in transit appeals to the nomad in me, or that most of the moves in my life have been for the better.  Even though it's taken about six months to feel like I created some kind of sanctuary for myself at Cerberus, I'm not too sad to be moving to more permanent premises at Williamtown.

I'm surprised at how much stuff I have, considering when we had to scrawl out an inventory, there were people with huge and detailed lists compared to mine.  I had a feeling that there might be too many boxes in my moving kit, that perhaps someone somewhere had grossly overestimated the amount of property one could squash into a double cabin here.  Sure enough though, I crammed all of my things bar a few items of clothing, toiletries, and essential uniform, into six boxes.  Including my trunk and ironing board, somehow I managed to keep the number of transportable items to below ten.

There's nothing like packing your worldly goods into boxes to make you wonder how much you really have in life, and how much you actually need.  It amazes me how much superfluous junk I have somehow managed to acquire over such a short space as six months.  It's also quite a relief to only have a few boxes to contend with at the other end; I was tempted to just move my uniforms and take the clothes I was wearing, and start all over again, but there were too many books and photos I'd be leaving behind, and I wasn't sure of my odds of buying a wardrobe of civvies again, bit by bit.

Strangely enough, on the very day my room looks like a tornado has sucked all my belongings away, I got pulled aside by the Squadron Leader at the School of Catering about a TPR.  TPR == Trainee Progress Report, which can either be a good or a bad thing, sort of like a digg online.  They have something to do with outstanding things, but the trick is knowing whether you're sticking out because of a positive or a negative action.  It turns out that there was a Lieutenant Commander who noticed on three occasions during rounds (or perhaps other inspections?) that my cabin was of an excellent standard and I should be commended for it.  If only she could see it now!