On my way home, at a pedestrian crossing, a lady said to me, "I like your style. Your outfit - I like it." I said thankyou, and as we were crossing the road together, I asked her is she was from europe (for she had an accent.
The floodgates opened. She was South American, from Brazil, and boy, did she like to talk. She talked to me for half an hour about her life and times, taking a cue from one of my few interjections of "I'm looking for a house to move into", and gave me warnings about housemates. She was really funny, and her stories were quite interesting as far as random-person-stopping-you-on-the-street stories go.
After sharing laughter and advice on houses, we went our seperate ways.
It was odd, but this sort of thing happens to me, so I guess I shouldn't be too surprised.
I have also started the packing process. Our hallway is slowly filling up with filled boxes. I feel kind of apprehensive about the packing process, because I have already filled a whole bunch of boxes without really scratching the surface of the stuff-to-be-packed mass. I've taken a whole bunch of boxes home from work, but we've run out here (as another person is moving, and nabbed boxes before I could get to them). I hate moving.