Usually I would consider it a job well done. I'm going to the gym to get more functional strength, and helping a friend move is very functional. So, good thing. The not-so-good thing is the the job is not done. Moving Gwydion's stuff is a Herculean task, requiring one half-god in need of a challenge, or, lacking that, a well-organised team of twelve people and a large van or small lorry.
We had four people (plus mad_freddy and K___, who came in for a few hours before noon) and a tiny van. We need to be fininshed tomorrow, because Monday we won't even have that tiny van. We have now, after 8 hours of work, moved about 30% of the stuff (and that's not counting the contents of the attic and the cellar which we have not even started to consider).
Gods less fortunate, I hate "stuff". I hate how it accumulates. I hate how it is dusty and dirty. I hate how it competes with people for space and eats up attention. I hate the million tiny knick-knacks, thingamajics, whatchacallits and whatisthisevengoodfors which are impossible to pack efficiently. I hate giant, unstable, breakable pieces of furniture that cannot be dismantled and weigh a ton. If I weren't dead on my feet, I'd have decluttered the bathroom after coming home just to show clutter in general who's the boss here.
Instead Ceridwen and I went to my place at 10 in the evening, had tea and enjoyed general un-clutteredness of the living room.
If my back, shoulder and knees are up to it, more of the same tomorrow. Going to bed now.