Tomorrow I'm going to be so dead. But at least nearly all of the contents of the flat have been relocated. Not my desk or computer, obviously, since the date for the transfer of phone and 'net depends on the Telecom. I'm pretty sure anyone who's ever dealt with the pink T feels my pain.
Moving all the stuff proved to be relatively easy, partly because all of us have moved before and by now know the routine, partly because we actually had help.
One of these helpers (a colleague of J.'s boything) was an annoyance to me for some time, until he got it into his head that his attempts to stop me from carrying heavy stuff because I happen to be female, would only lead to him getting his head bitten of by me while I was carrying said heavy stuff. Moron. I didn't have male help at any of my previous moves and who did he think carried that washer, dishwasher and huge fridge up to the old flat anyway? J's boything on his own? Idiot.
J.'s boything is of a more ... traditional mindset and background than me or even J, so this happens occasionally. I think I might need to put a sign around my neck when meeting people via him. "I'm Alex. I'm strange. I'll probably not behave in the way you're used to. Your assumptions are not my problem. Just deal with it. Thanks."
Now, bed. While all the furniture is more or less where it's supposed to go, there are still lots of boxes to unpack. There'll probably be pictures at some point.