Since the last blog that I wrote in a dreamy state of “everything is going great but I am a little bit nervous”, the shit has hit the fan. How foolish of me to have worried about any of the things that I was fretting about. I have learned another valuable lesson in life about trusting people. The lesson being that I really should stop just giving everyone a trust card as soon as I meet them. From now on nobody is going to begin with a clean slate with me. Everyone is murky and grubby until they have proven otherwise, this way I shall hopefully protect myself and my family from any further upset.
So… wonder house is not going to be a thing. Goodbye real fire in the living room, see you later conservatory, farewell best bathroom with the most storage that I have ever seen in it, adieu living one street away from Lovely fiances parents which would have made life so unbelievably awesome it is untrue. The private landlord (that lovely fiance knew personally) after telling us that they had secured a new home and to hand in our notice on ours, giving us a moving date and contracts to sign…….. told us that their house had fallen through (even though they said to us that they had keys the previous week) and that we would not be able to move when we thought we would. Thus sending my world crashing into a pit of panic and despair full of emails and worried phone calls. I need to find way to forgive her in my head soon because at the moment I could merrily run her down in my car.
I am (mostly) over it now, because we have found another house that we can live in. It isn’t exactly where we wanted it to be, but it is good enough. The bathroom is not the best, but it is a definite upgrade on the leprous version that we have lived with for nearly four years. There is no conservatory (I was so obsessed with the idea of having one that I can’t even explain my sadness about not getting one anymore. I have never lived in a house with one, but I love them. If there was such a thing as house porn I would be the one making odd noises going “check out the conservatory on that one!”) however the kitchen is bigger and we will I think be very happy there.
All of my moving fear has gone now which is a brilliant side effect of having security whipped out from under your feet at the last minute. My desire to rent from a private landlord has also vanished forever. We are paying an extreme, eye watering amount of agency fees to move into the new house, but I know that we are all tied up in lots of legal contracts which mean that we will not find ourselves suddenly sans abode. Which is good. Because neither my heart or my liver can take that ever again (so much booze has been put in my body over the last fortnight that the alcohol industry has forgiven me for my absence during my pregnancies and breastfeeding now).
After withdrawing our notice on our current house and halting any moving practices, I am finding it very hard to get back on it again. It is almost as if I think that I cursed us by being too quick off the mark to start packing things up so don’t want to do the same thing to us again. The slight hiccup in this is that we should have the keys to our new house in twenty three days and the only thing that is packed and ready to go are my books, although some people might say that you can sustain yourself on literature, I am not sure my family would agree.
Our house is so full of stuff. So. Much. Stuff.
I “should” be packing. I “should” have gone and put the clean sheets on the bed so that lovely fiance and I don’t have to make the bed before we get into it later. I “should” be listing our unwanted treasure on selling or free websites so that it will all be gone from our house in good time. Instead today I spent on the floor playing with the children and making meals at the allotted times until they had a bath and I read them stories so that they drifted off to sleep all happy and contented. Which was lovely. But not productive. Now that Lovely fiance is home from work I should take this as an opportunity for us to do organising, I have instead prepared burritos and a box set so that I know we can sit on the sofa.
It is very much like I am hiding emotionally from moving now, which means that I need to kick myself up the bottom and get a move on because as everyone knows us knows, I am the one who does this sort of thing in our house. The kids mainly eat everything and make a mess as their primary job roles, they moonlight as sleep disruptors when they feel like it, but that is about it. Lovely fiance is in charge of fixing the stuff that needs power tools, mowing the lawn, taking stuff to the dump and on his days off cleaning whatever he sees that needs cleaning as he potters about the house. The rest is me. I know where everything is. I know EXACTLY how full the cupboards under the stairs are.
Having children has made the amount of possessions we have become entirely unreasonable, well it was fine until I realised that I was going to have to put them all in boxes and transport them to another house and unpack them again.
I must find the motivation to get it all done sooner rather than later. Otherwise I am going to be that person who doesn’t get to sleep the night before moving day because she is packing. And I have two small children, sleep is the most precious thing to me (other than obviously them, the reason why I don’t get to do it as much as I want to- yes double entendre intended) so that also can not be a thing.
If you want to come and visit in the next three weeks with a big cardboard box and help me Pack some stuff over a cup of tea (wine) please feel welcome, I might really need to watch someone else try and pack my things to bring the control freak back out in me and get it all done.