It was a nightmare but, relatively speaking, it wasn't...

Dec 05, 2011 17:45


The boxes are unpacked (except for one or two), the minor repair things that you only notice need doing once you move in, or which break *as* you move in, are done (except for one or two), the changes of address are in train (except for...well, most of them...), and the to-do list is decorated with nice, fat, red ticks of ‘done’ (except for one or two things that I’ve been putting off).

So, we’re here, and it is really beginning to feel like home. I don’t wake up in the morning and wonder where I am. Parking downstairs, and doing that a complicated reverse, reverse, forward thing to get out again is almost automatic. I’ve met 5 of the other residents of the block, and they seem all very friendly and reasonable. And I’m discovering little quirky things about the unit which make me love it - the bird that sleeps in the tree outside the living room, the sight of the Southern Cross from my bedroom window. I’m surrounded by glimpses: of the City, including the top of Sydney Tower; the distant view of the Blue Mountains; and I can still see (glimpses of) Cockatoo Island, and the Parramatta River/the Harbour.

It is a much smaller home unit than the one we moved from, and this caused me no small amount of despair as I unpacked. I’d been ruthless, I’d been prepared, I’d been completely strategic about this. Dear Heavens, I’d even come in and measured absolutely everything so I could be sure things would fit in. And somehow I’ve managed to squeeze it all in. But it’s been pretty tight.

There’s never any good way to do this, though. No matter how early I started packing the night before found me still trying to empty my kitchen. All was going OK, until suddenly I ran out of tape. At about midnight. Un.Be.Lievable. Without tape I couldn’t make up any boxes, so that meant there were still some full cupboards there. I’d really hoped to avoid having to do any of that lifting and carrying myself because this time it was just going to be me and J - M had told me he wouldn’t be able to help. (He told me he probably wouldn’t ever visit either because he still feels too much bitterness and anger, and *he* wasn’t going to be able to afford to buy his own place.)

It wasn’t as bad as last time (Nothing could be as bad as last time). I was actually prepared, the removalists were great, and they did the job 4 hours quicker than the last lot. And they didn’t walk off with my credit card! Bonus! The rain held off until we were carrying the last dining chair out of the truck, after which it absolutely bucketed down for the next week. Yes, I did have that horrible day when I was lugging left over packing from old flat (up two flights of stairs to the car) to the new (up two flights of stairs to the flat). There are 45 + 45 steps x about 12 separate trips up, down and up again. Lots of steps. Lots of steps up which I carried quite heavy boxes or awkward/large things that bumped at my shins or jammed my fingers or periodically banged me on the head. Ah, bruises - the flags of a move well done.

There were no curled up moments during this move. Oh, quite a few ‘I have to sit down or I’ll drop where I stand’, but no ‘I can’t do this, it’s impossible.’ That’s the lesson burned into my brain from the last time around - as awful as it gets, I will get through it and get everything done. Plus, this time around I numbered every box and kept a list of what was in them (brilliant!); I made sure I packed an emergency kit that included cutlery; and I had made proper plans for meals. And the removalists put J’s bed back together for me, I didn’t even need to ask.

J himself had also taken on-board the lessons from last time around. He told me he was well-prepared for the chaos part of it, the sea of boxes, the not being able to find things. And he came home to the new flat that afternoon and made a huge effort at unpacking his stuff and putting his stamp on his new room. Posters up, shaggy rug on the floor. I was very proud of him.

So, we survived. But...

...needless to say...I’m never doing this again. Never, ever, ever.

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