Archives for August 2014

It’s been a hideously unsettling few days for my little family. We’ve moved into a temporary house for the next 4 weeks while we wait for the new one to stop being a building site.

It’s not actually a temporary home, it’s someone else’s very permanent home. Just not mine. And it’s hard to live in someone else’s home no matter how gorgeous and lovely and kind those people are.

It’s harder even to pack up everything you have and decide just what it is you’ll need for the 4 weeks you have no access to any of your stuff.

I’ll divert at this point to tell you that I’m the worlds worst packer and have never once got holiday packing right. So the fact that I packed 4 weeks of clothes for myself on a very warm day means that I have nothing to wear in the cold.  Did I mention how cold it is at the moment?

I knew moving would be hard because as I revealed before, I am very bad at change. I don’t like chaos and I hate moving. What I didn’t expect was just how anxious it would make me.

On Saturday (the day we took our “stuff” to the temporary house) I became so anxious I could feel my insides unfurling.  I actually needed to hug myself to keep them in. I would have asked my husband but I don’t think I was behaving in a way that warranted hugging.

This was all  BEFORE I went to pick up sushi for us for lunch and the lid of the miso soup came off the container and souped up everything including my mood.
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To add to it all I still have lingering symptoms of flu. And diabetes.

But the very worst thing about moving was something that I never ever expected – a letter from my new temporary neighbours

This is the worst letter I could ever receive. Ever. And it may be the reason I am never leaving the house again.

If you are looking for me I will be at home hugging the dog

So yes, this week has been a blast.

Exhibit A : the house is not ready for us to move in

“I’ve had an epiphany” my husband screams from the bedroom as I fret in the lounge. I am siting at my computer reading the invoice from the removals company for perhaps the 18^th time that day. It is around 9am.

“What kind of epiphany?” I manage to mutter thinking for sure he’s going to say something about the joinery that he has been designing for the new house. I brace myself for him to tell me that the extra 2mm he’s “epiphanised” will make the cupboards even better.

But no.

“I understand why you’re so anxious about moving” he says. “It’s your childhood, it all makes sense to me now”.
But it doesn’t. Mr Pencil can blame my childhood for a lot of things but he doesn’t realise that all people get stressed about moving. Or don’t they?
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