We had a significant parental moment here over the weekend. Our daughter moved out into her first sharehouse. It wasn't the big shock to the system that it could have been because she'd been staying over at her boyfriend's place a fair bit the last year. But it still felt significant.
I helped her take a load of stuff over to the new digs.
That was weird, lemme tell you. It's been a while since I had to do a sharehouse move. But it all came rushing back. The first thing I thought? When she moves into her second sharehouse, she won't be dragging this massive caravan of crap around with her. I remember getting my possessions down to one bag of clothes and whatever computer I was working on at the time.
I dunno, though. Maybe it will be different for her. It's a house full of girls she's moved into. You could tell by the way, there weren't 500 cans of beer and a disarticulated pig's carcass in the living room.
It's a big adventure for all of them, but it definitely feels like something coming to an end for us.
Maybe the war of the cold water bottles?