Back in November, the house that has been our home for the past five years was put up for sale. It wasn’t something I was happy about but that was our landlord’s right. After a month of continuous viewings, Husband and I decided that maybe we should prepare ourselves for the worst….I mean a sale. So we and that’s the royal we so I, started to sort through our belongings and began to pack up bits and pieces. I had also decided that we needed a clear out.
Thus began two months of ferrying boxes and bag to the charity shop. Clothes that hadn’t seen the light of day in years. Books that hadn’t been touched in, well, ever! Boxes upon boxes of glasses. Im still not entirely sure why we needed 30 pint glasses or two dozen wine glasses. Off they went! It got to the point that if I was passing within a mile of the charity shop I had something to leave in. I’m pretty sure I could have opened my own!!
By the end of January, we decided we weren’t waiting to be told to leave, we were going to leave on our own terms. So began the search, if people weren’t snooping around our house, we were in someone else’s. A vicious circle. Eventually we found one, and paid a deposit as quick as we could.
The packing could begin in earnest! It was during this packing phase that I made a very important self discovery. I hate packing with a fiery vengeance. I mean I could have turned boxes to stone. Everywhere I looked I saw boxes. In the sitting room, the kitchen, the bedroom. When I closed my eyes I dreamed about them!! I kid you not.
Our new landlord was very accommodating. He allowed us to gradually start moving boxes in before we paid the first month’s rent. Then came the magic words, ‘You can paint if you like, put your own stamp on the place.’ Okay!! Yes please! There was no stopping me I had paint, brushes, helpers, coverings, the lot, before you could say colour chart! I took great pleasure in watching that horrendous magnolia disappear room by room!!
But then my box problem took a turn for the worst. They were in the old house. They were in the new house. They were everywhere! There was no escape!! I was now dreaming about running out of boxes. I would wake in a cold sweat and not settle until I laid eyes on the neat pile of flattened boxes.
The end of February, we paid the first month, moved in and prepared to hand back the keys. We were told our timing was perfect, the house had been sold. Even though we had a new house, I took this very badly. My home was gone. It had been sold out from under me by an ungrateful landlord. I felt betrayed and lost. Okay I had a roof over my head but my home was gone. There was no going back.
To distracting myself from the loss I threw myself into unpacking. Now this bit I loved! Finding new homes for things. Filling presses, deciding it’s the wrong press, fill another. Another vicious circle. I remind myself of Mary Kate Danaher, wanting my things around me. In case you live under a rock, she is the female lead in The Quiet Man, who wanted nothing more than her dowry. If I have to explain that one, I give up!
We are now in June and I’m slowing starting to adjust. I’m not sure if this house will ever feel like home or if I’ll ever get over that sale. My head says get over it but my heart says F@$% Off! The thing that’s getting me through is how well BB is getting on. Its a bungalow, so she can go in and out of her room as she pleases. The garden is also perfect for her, its walled in and very secure. She seems to love it here. So whenever I start to feel sour, I try to focus on that. So what have I learned? Moving house is stressful, time consuming and painful. It make me cranky, tired and hungry(when I’m stressed I get hungry). We collect far too much crap