Posts Tagged ‘moving’

Le sigh.

March 18, 2012

Yesterday morning was so rushed (the movers arrived at 6 30 am!) that I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye. To walk through each room, remembering. To stand in the garden and breathe.

We have lived many places together, but that’s been our first home we bought. Where we brought our babies home.

I am so terribly, terribly sad today, a country away from our little house.

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No lie.

January 28, 2012

Fuck. Just had two valuations of our flat, and I suspect we’re going to book a third for early next week because I have an inability to pick between the first two estate agents. I sometimes feel like I was more of a grown up when I was nineteen.

I’d just moved into my first flat, with my ever glowing sister of the soul, Cookie. And by twenty? I was in my fourth and final year of university, living in the same flat but with two gay boys and a sometimes girlfriend. And a sometimes TMD. I was the fucking boss of that place, man. Never mind that both boys split the rent – it was MY apartment. It’s just how it was.

And while I never ever cleaned, I was in charge of bills. I was a grown up.

At twenty-two or twenty-three, I was the director of a large summer camp. Yeah. The lives of 60 staff and 2,000 campers were in my hands, and I never blinked. That shit was like breathing. Easy peasy.

So here I am, some ten years later, and I’m probably not going to be able to sleep as my brain explodes from worry. We’d be better off financially if we’d never bought this place and just rented for the last four years. Yes, renting is throwing away money. But you know what else is throwing away money? Buying a flat when you’re going to be there for a short period, especially when it’s worth less than it was when you bought it. All the solicitors fees, estate agent fees, decline in housing market – ah, yes, it’s the wonder world of hindsight.

Except I love this flat. Really, really love it.

Now if only I could grow some courage and manage to figure out how to choose which estate agent to go with.

On a related (?) note, I am striving for the life I/we want. I’ve entered a ‘I just don’t give a shit’ phase of my life that allows me to donate clothes that I have been holding onto for memory’s sake for about fifteen years. Including my first peach coloured negligee. Yes, I just don’t give a shit.

I do give a shit in the worry stakes – is it the right thing to move? Are we going to lose all our money? How can we possibly afford this mortgage once we have moved?

In the big picture, though, Snort discovered Mr Potato Head tonight and thinks it’s the greatest thing ever. And we took the kids into the city today, and Coconut danced to live classical music. So on the family front, things are good, gooder, goodest. I have to remember that, even as we try and try to be grown up enough to handle negotiating fees, dealing with keeping the place clean(ha!) all the time for viewings, and getting rid of even more stuff we don’t need.

Weird how I long for those days when I was dealing with a camp van being stolen, the office being broken into, a camper being abducted and taken into a neighboring country. It all seemed much easier.

Moving house….peeing….whatever.

January 27, 2012

So, we’re moving. And I’m totally not grown up enough to sell this flat.

It’s a fairly major move, to another part of the country. All of TMD’s parents live there – though FIL (my father in law) is basically giving us his house and he’ll be moving about an hour and a half away to live with his partner. He’ll come spend the night once a week or so. I’m not an ungrateful sow, but I do wish he’d sell his house, invest his money for his future, and give us a bit so we can buy a house we actually want. He is redoing his house – new carpet, windows, paint, bathrooms, etc – and it is a nice house. Four bedrooms, big garden! I am just so not a city/suburban woman.

We might live in a small two bedroom flat now, but our back garden is expansive, with a path leading down to a huge park, woods, and yet more countryside. I’m all about the trees, yo. All about the trees.

Still, the area we’re moving to is nice, and there is lots of green space nearby – just a bit bummed that we’ll have to drive to it rather than our back door opening to it.

We plan to move pretty fucking soon – end of March. We have a lot to do before then. Step one was getting our wobbly toilet fixed yesterday, which necessitated both adults in the house pooping in children’s potties today before dumping it in a big bucket which is currently covered with cling film and in the bathtub. It’s all glamourous here.

(Sidenote: for some reason, my grandmother essentially lived in her basement – as most of my extended family does. Not in a weird ‘put the lotion in the basket’ kind of way, but in a cozy, comfortable ‘this one giant room is all we need, sod the rest of the house’ sort of way. When we were little, she showed us how to pee in a special red pot (like the sort you boil water and cook things in!) rather than walking all the way upstairs to pee. She did it, so we did too. Might have had something to do with her arthritis, or maybe  my family are crazier than I think. So ANYWAY. The point of this sidenote was to say I felt perfectly happy peeing in a bucket last night and this morning.)

Our new house – I have to try to start thinking of it that way, rather than as FIL’s house – has a bathroom downstairs and upstairs. So we can all pee without climbing stairs or resorting to using kitchenware to help us void our bladders.

I have the feeling I got off topic somewhere…

A junkie in the truest sense.

May 18, 2008

I have a passion for things that are both funky and useless. These include the wonderful lanyards, homies, and smooth glass pieces from the beach which are currently nestled in a box I’ve just packed. Also in the box are a rubber ducky and her three children, a bag of marbles TMD once bought me, about six travelcard wallets, and an assortment of crap.

Many of the things I own are intrinsically cool, the sort of thing I want to surround myself with in my new writer’s room in the new house (the room formerly known as ‘therapy room’ and futurely known as ‘baby’s room’). The problem is that I have too many.

The McDonald’s toy chicken nugget dressed as a dinosaur is one of the only givens I know I will have proudly on display, and possibly my Rubik’s cube. You know, because every time I see it I pick it up, twirl it around, and joyfully proclaim that I’m going to start playing with it. Any. Day. Now.

The problem isn’t only acquiring these things (from fast foot restaurant floors – I shit you not, my sister, TMD, friends, holidays, stores, freebies in various places), no. The true problem is that I can’t throw anything away. I imbue everything with a supernatural amount of sentimentality. That being said, I have gotten rid of astronomical amounts of books, clothes, shoes, video tapes, music tapes, workplace binders, etc. But there seems to be an infinite amount of ‘stuff’, and the things I have the most trouble getting rid of are those that have no use.

Right now I’m sitting here with a promotional ribbon lanyard hung around my neck, nothing dangling from the end.

For the sake of it.

May 15, 2008

We’re moving a week from tomorrow and I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed by it all. I have about a gillion change-of-address phone calls to make, a thousand boxes that need packing, and 48390257 boxes that are already packed and making life a little bit maze-like. Every time my phone rings I cringe, as estate agents are bringing floods of people to view this flat.

I have never been good with having too many things to do. I like my lists. TMD tells me there is a change-of-address list somewhere. Perhaps if I find it I’ll be inspired to make those phone calls.

This afternoon I go to the doctor to pick up some test results – proof for the baby making clinic that I’m a healthy chick-a-dee. Then off to the pub for an evening with a small group of friends from work. I am looking forward to going out, but at the same time am lazy enough to just want to stay at home. It feels like too much work to socialise sometimes. I know, I know, I’m old before my time.

I’m really only writing this because I wanted to write, but I had nothing to write about. Suggestions?

And if you want a hope of understanding where this diary may be heading. At least in regards to pee-pees and babies.

May 10, 2008

We’re moving two weeks from yesterday. I’m so excited, even though we are not even close to being packed, but I have a few worries. When I first moved to this country I was depressed for a good couple of years, at least. That didn’t really lift until I got Day Job and started figuring out how things worked. We lived in a nice little studio apartment – that I never left. I didn’t know how to travel around, I didn’t understand how the money worked, I had just moved away from all my family and friends and wasn’t sure when I would see them again.

TMD had classes or work most days. I had class one evening a week, and was not allowed to work. I didn’t have any friends or anything to do.

I worry a bit about moving, because here in The City I can go anywhere and do anything. I can take buses, trains, subways, boats, bicycle, or feet. Where we are moving, you really need to drive. Things are more spread out.

It’s nice because it means a nicer style of life, but I think about things like doctor’s appointments – how can I attend if I can’t drive? I am very focused on trying to get my license before the summer is up. I definately want it before baby-in-the-tummy time, when I’ll have other things to worry about.

In the meantime, I will continue reading Taking Charge of Your Fertility. This is possibly the most right on book about women’s reproductive health I have ever read. I think girls should be taught about how their bodies work from a young age. If you’re a woman, I’d strongly recommend you reading this – whether you are gay/bi/straight, trying for a baby, trying to avoid a baby, not having sex at all. It’s all about getting to know your body better and taking responsibility for your health.

Today is the first day of my period, but I didn’t get to take my temp this morning because I woke up at 3 to pee and never fell back asleep. I think I may need to set my alarm daily for a very early time to try to get some consistency. If you wonder why I need to take my temperature and what it has to do with my period, go get this book!!