The calendar becomes shorter. From now on just over two weeks and then we go to France.
In the house you have to look for things that have to be put somewhere in a box.
Lamps are dismantled and stored safely for transport.
What still needs to be taken and what remains behind.
And from what is left behind: can we make someone happy with it or do we take it to the dump.
Well, that dump...
That is a story in itself. In the meantime, we can blindly find our way between the various containers to dump waste. We have been there so many times. Those who work there see us coming every day. And those who live here in the village almost have to think that we have an inexhaustible house!
We may imagine it, but the house seems to leave a deep sigh that it is finally a little lighter on its foundations.
We have managed to get at least 1 room completely empty. No stuff. No boxes. Nothing. How is it possible. In contrast, the other rooms are full up to your waist.
The containers on the dump are also full. Not just ours. But we feel we have brought an important part of our life to it.
Every time I am surprised how much people actually throw away. I look over the edge of a container to see what's in it: complete lives of things that were once useful. And now be irreverently thrown down.
Sometimes there is something that someone with all his soul and salvation has worked on, self-built windmills in the garden, once glorious planters, bird houses, now disrespectfully thrown away. Useless and broken.
I think that was the problem with us: we just couldn't throw anything away in all the time that we lived here.
As a result, we have now driven endlessly to the dump.
For, sometimes with equal respect and occasionally say that we were grateful for using it, also throwing old junk into the container.
An era has come to an end: we almost drove our last trailer with trash to it. Silent witness is the stack of receipts.
