WE DID IT! I can't believe we have finally moved after all the hassle and stress of the past few weeks; see crappiest conveyancing solicitor ever, postal strike and ex husband. I have the best removal guys ever and with free comedy value thrown in to boot. Their removal wagon arrived, filled up had to go back to old house and fill up again because there was more than they had realised and at 21:30 we finished. Throw into the mix He-man's parents evening on same night,which we had to go to, GCSE year and all that, all adding to the whole stress factor. So here we are a whole week later, unpacked in our new home,apart from the boxes sat in garage waiting for move part two in the next few months. We walk past the house we are buying everyday like a happy reminder that it is waiting for us although as slightly worried about the rapidly peeling soffit paintwork and the fact that if the owner sees me she'll have me down as a stalker.
Is it possible to get excited about putting your own things in a cupboard? Is it right to get giddy about deciding on the right place say for a photo frame or a tin of beans?Don't it feel good when you solve the riddle behind why the gate doesn't shut, the flickering light, faulty door, and TV working with bizarre aerial?
Being in rented of course means that when there is a problem we ring up. This is great as it does mean that I don't have to first panic about how much it going to cost and what else it will lead to and it even better it is someone else problem. First weekend we had the bleedin' obvious to fix, such as house keys not working, the flickering night light that had been doing the neighbours head in whilst the property was empty,etc was sorted out by handyman Steve. Next week we will have handyman Geoff who will hopefully repair the toilet that flushes violently and all over the floor, nice, the other blocked toilet ( He-man looks awfully suspicious as the culprit as it is his party piece on more than one occasion, there is a whole blog ready and waiting about his bathroom habits ) , the blocked gutter that is pouring rain down the wall, the door handle with missing screws and a hook for the blind so we can pull it up in one of the bedrooms instead of being in complete darkness all day.
The final boxes were all mine and having just read Jane Alexander's blog on clutter I am wondering whether I should just bin the lot. All I have done is move stuff from one cupboard where it lay for years to a box where it will sit untouched to go into another cupboard. I am never going to wear that jumper or those trousers again and stuff the "it might come in useful theory" because it hasn't so far. The bathroom toys that we have long since forgotten about are never used by nieces and nephews and will we really use that awful stinking shower gel bought as Christmas present in 2003?
I had thought that the dog had settled in too. There was less of the manic panting as we leave the house for the day. No more crapping at the sight of a cardboard box. Excited at the prospect of new bums & lamp posts to sniff. But no, on the return home yesterday, as I stepped into the kitchen having fleetingly glimpsed at She-ra bent over the pc in the hall and He-man with his GIRLFRIEND ( who he swore I would never be allowed to see never mind bring her home ) I noticed bits of wood on the floor. As I walked into the kitchen lots for of much larger splinters of wood were all over the place. Had Jack Nicholson paid me a visit a la Here's Johnny stylee? No. Dog, now renamed the black bitch from hell, decided to open the solid wood kitchen door whilst we were out and took several attempts to do so. Does she gets marks for persistence and not being a quitter? The kitchen door looks like it has been attacked by a mad axe murderer. It is going to take all my creative DIY skills to sort this one and I guess she will have to have full run of the house whilst we are out. No doubt I will find her on my bed watching Dog porn ( Dog Borstal ), havin' a fag in one paw and a tinny ( of food ) in the other.
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