Cry Havoc

It is twenty past midnight.

I have just eaten a stale doughnut and am having a cup of tea.  After that I will pack up a few things. Then I will attempt to get clean.  Then I will go to bed for about five hours.

I have been on the go since 6.45 this morning.  I am now beyond tired and well into the world of the strange.

The next few days are going to be horrible. Just horrible.

Today the removal men came to clear out our storage unit.  It is full of stuff.

Tomorrow (technically today), they come to clear our house.

I am supposed to be advising and overseeing this.  I can only do this in the morning as I am also supposed to be on a training course in the afternoon. I would have cancelled and postponed it, but I have already had to do this once because of the snow.  Plus, even though the mere thought of going on a training course is enough to make me weep at the moment, I suspect that by lunch time tomorrow I will be desperate to get away to some semblance of a normal life, if only for a few hours.

I will leave the removal men wondering why I have managed to accrue such a random bunch of items, and in such immense numbers, while I go and learn to be an arts advisor.

Then I will go to my new house, hope that the tradespeople have gone, and scrub and clean and hoover, ready for the next lot of people to tramp through on Friday.

On Friday, the removal men will stop removing and start delivering everything to a house which is currently both filthy and full of people, but which will hopefully be magically transformed before they arrive.

I find this hard to believe after a late night visit this evening. Carpets are up, wires are dangling, walls have great holes in them and there are tens of jobs that have been started, and none of them are finished.

Even after they are gone there is still a list as long as my arm of things we have left to do.  Things need painting and plastering, doors need hanging, blinds need fitting, lights need shades etc.  Jason’s ‘cinema’ room, is currently a shell, and is liable to remain so for years at this rate.  The house is a gigantic money pit already, and we haven’t even moved on to the outside yet.

And despite the fact that we have literally shit loads of stuff, and our new house is bigger than this house and the one we had before, we still don’t seem to have anywhere to put things away.

I remember now that one of my biggest grudges against modern housing is the parlous lack of cupboards for people like me.  People who like to squirrel stuff away, just in case.

We have bought acres of furniture this week.  All our pieces from the furniture warehouse are in, although the huge wardrobe is in five separate pieces in the middle of our bedroom at the moment.  We went to Ikea this evening and bought lights and lamps, sofas and book cases.  We are going back for armchairs, and possibly more book cases.

The weekend sees us visiting the furniture warehouse again for more drawers and cupboards and probably a coffee table, although right now that is the least of my worries.

The house is going to look like a furniture warehouse itself very soon, and the thought of rationalising it all and sorting and clearing and boxing up and selling and charity shopping and the endless tip visits that I know are coming down the line apace, fill me with horror.

Right now Jason and I are grim faced and wondering if we have done the right thing. We are thinking that it wasn’t like this last time we moved into a house of our own.  This is probably a total lie, but it is one we stupidly persist in believing as we wearily drive back and forth, spilling money into the waiting pockets of eager tradesmen.

We are both tired. We are both stressed. We are both trying to juggle impossible things on a daily basis. There is never enough time to do anything and it is all getting a bit much. Tempers are rather frayed.  We are working hard on not divorcing right now. We will be fine, but we are at that stage where we are too tired to think about carefully phrasing the things we need to say, which leads to a few hiccups in our communication here and there.

Friends and family are rallying round.  Granny and Granddad are providing temporary refuge while both houses are completely unliveable in, and my friend Nicki is going above and beyond with child wrangling and school disco duties tomorrow so the children don’t feel as utterly wretched as their parents.

It is half term next week, which will mean there is less pressure, and the lack of school run will be magnificent.

I am holding on to the thought that by the weekend after next we will be feeling much sunnier about everything.

Let it be true.

 

 

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8 responses to “Cry Havoc

  1. Once you are in the new house it will all work out just fine. Maybe not immediately but in due course everything will settle down. Half term is fortuitous and will give you a chance to breathe in between chores without having to factor in the school run. And leaving some space unfurnished and stuff in boxes for a few days or weeks wouldn’t be so bad. A more leisurely approach to setting up and finding the best storage solutions can be the best way in the long run. Slow down, eat biscuits and have a little recline on the CLD with a glass of the red stuff. It’s not a competition to achieve the perfect move, especially with the amount of work needed at the house. There will be no prizes for collapsing in a heap on the floor and what’s a day or two, or three or even more in the grand scheme of things? You will get there in the end and it will be wonderful :-)

    xox

  2. Unless you are entering some magazine competition for house of the year then what Sharon says is right on the button……once in the house there is no rush to be ‘done’ and complete. House moves are horrendous and stressful and yet we all get through them and just like childbirth eventually start thinking about doing it again. Have a bottle of something lovely to drink in your new home on the first night……and let the kids choose their own room………learn to love dust. . Wish I could be nearer and help but sounds like you have that sorted. All will be well.

  3. Absolutely what Sharon and Libby say. As long as the beds are made and the kettle & mugs are found first, then all things will get done in their own time. Remember moving house is one of the three most stressful thing in life, after death and divorce.

  4. We are currently still trying to find a house, I am hoping to buy old and refurbish, himself wants brand new (as he has refurbished 3 houses, my tally of refurbishment is 0) I daren’t let Mr auntiegwen read your blog as he will be afeared. All will be will dear Katyboo and hurrah for no early morning school runs for you next week

  5. Things could be far worse. We built our new house it was far from finished no plumbed toilets, no kitchen, not hot water, we had to move in our rental was sold. I begged for one more week but was refused…..we moved in, we camped, we peed in buckets, we washed in buckets, we cooked on a BBQ….I hope this makes you feel better lol!

  6. (Apologies if this appears multiple times, wordpress seems to have taken a dislike to me)
    It almost certainly *was* like that the last time you moved. I still have vivid unpleasant memories of our last move, nearly seven years ago (while I was pregnant – that certainly didn’t help!). I remember thinking at one point that I might as well move into B&Q I was spending so much time there. It will get better, you’re getting there!

    (Hmm, in my head I always hear ‘Cry Havoc’ in the voice of General Chang now)

  7. “…there are tens of jobs that have been started, and none of them are finished.” This is my life every day. If only I had a purple CLD (TM) of my own to retire to.

    Happy homecoming! This, too, shall pass.

  8. I am sipping my tea and sending my Bestest Ever sustaining thoughts to you in your upheavally moving-ness. Let me know when cake will be acceptable, and I shall appear with cake.

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