Sticking One's Head in the Oven

Cleaning this flat is deeply boring. I've managed to live here for five years without ever cleaning the boiler--how crucial can this be? Alas, to save the £150, we (read: husband) opted to do this ourselves. Anyone sitting around thinking you ought to be doing something more active? Come on over to Poplar, there's a stylish pair of rubber gloves waiting on you. Really, who looks inside an oven all that much anyhow?

Blog posts and Facebook notes from fellow travelers are on the up; comforting to know that many are having the same issues with fitting all the stuff we need into a tiny-tiny rucksack. I don't know these people yet, but I feel like we're at least all starting at the same point. Except the girl who says she's having no issues at all and has a giant bag--for her I feel only deep envy. 97LitreBagGirl, you are my role model. 

The others on the trip are mostly coming into London tomorrow and all seem to be planning to have lots of pints in pubs all afternoon. Jealousy is not attractive, I tell myself. But I want to be sipping ale tomorrow, not sticking my head in an oven.