moving / dream
Catching up...
...been in my flat two weeks now. New place, new beginnings, new life. No compromise, all mine.
Shit moving is a lot of work, eh? So lucky to have a friend drive down from the north at 4am to help me. Wouldn't take no as an answer, I was all set to get a man with a van and just do it. Damned glad he came, I'm not sure I would have managed it alone. I was up til 2am on the Thursday boxing everything up, the first time I've done that myself properly and alone (previously friends/girlfriends/movers). Thankfully a friend gave me dozens of boxes from her move last year. I stopped with one wardrobe remaining, when I ran out of boxes. At 6am my friend showed up and went to get the hire van. Meanwhile my wife's removal men came and took what she'd boxed up when I was away. My mate came back and we loaded up, then he helped me clean. The new owners owe him a lot of thanks for that. I took a final photo of me in my lovely, empty cottage, then we went for lunch. Once the sale completed my next door neighbour helped us get the boxes onto the pavement outside the flat, friend took van back, neighbour helped me move boxes upstairs. Boxes, boxes everywhere. Another friend showed up later than she thought, along with the boiler man and cable guy, tv and internet on, took friends to pub, crashed in my clothes -- quite early -- on to old sheets.
Saturday I freaked out. Had to call someone to talk me down from climbing the walls. Nothing fits. Emotions in every box. Finality. Sigh. I was reminded that it was only the first night, I can take my time, and I can make things my own. Since then, it has been better. Got some steam a few days later and crammed things anywhere I could. It will become a home, slowly. My home, in my time.
--
A few days ago I had a dream about meeting my wife. I said I was sorry she felt trapped in marriage, she abused me and told me I look for hurt women. I've felt more detached since that dream.
...been in my flat two weeks now. New place, new beginnings, new life. No compromise, all mine.
Shit moving is a lot of work, eh? So lucky to have a friend drive down from the north at 4am to help me. Wouldn't take no as an answer, I was all set to get a man with a van and just do it. Damned glad he came, I'm not sure I would have managed it alone. I was up til 2am on the Thursday boxing everything up, the first time I've done that myself properly and alone (previously friends/girlfriends/movers). Thankfully a friend gave me dozens of boxes from her move last year. I stopped with one wardrobe remaining, when I ran out of boxes. At 6am my friend showed up and went to get the hire van. Meanwhile my wife's removal men came and took what she'd boxed up when I was away. My mate came back and we loaded up, then he helped me clean. The new owners owe him a lot of thanks for that. I took a final photo of me in my lovely, empty cottage, then we went for lunch. Once the sale completed my next door neighbour helped us get the boxes onto the pavement outside the flat, friend took van back, neighbour helped me move boxes upstairs. Boxes, boxes everywhere. Another friend showed up later than she thought, along with the boiler man and cable guy, tv and internet on, took friends to pub, crashed in my clothes -- quite early -- on to old sheets.
Saturday I freaked out. Had to call someone to talk me down from climbing the walls. Nothing fits. Emotions in every box. Finality. Sigh. I was reminded that it was only the first night, I can take my time, and I can make things my own. Since then, it has been better. Got some steam a few days later and crammed things anywhere I could. It will become a home, slowly. My home, in my time.
--
A few days ago I had a dream about meeting my wife. I said I was sorry she felt trapped in marriage, she abused me and told me I look for hurt women. I've felt more detached since that dream.