[Warning: This particular blog contains no humour, or wit. It is just me complaining.]
There are strangers in my house.
Well, it’s not really mine because we are renting it. That‘s the problem. The landlord is selling the house, and strangers are potential new owners.
Once again, we are boxing up and moving out.
The ‘For sale’ sign appeared a few days ago, and a steady stream of smug, anxious professionals is coming through. They want to buy ‘my house’.
My son’s face crumpled slightly when I told him that we have to move, so I talked up all the positives. New = good. It’s exciting. Woohoo…
I could write something thoughtful about having a sense of place; connection to physical structures; belonging in a community; the need to ‘nest’… blah blah blah. Instead, I will just say that I slightly want to vomit at the thought of moving house again.
[Insert wise words “At least you’re not moving overseas.” or sensible comments “You’ve done it so many times before, just get on with it.”]
And here’s one I wrote earlier…
Where do you go when you press Home? Does your life have a ‘Home’ button? I’m back home (Sydney) after a brief visit to London (new home).
Just read this. So sorry to hear you have to move. What a pain in the everywhere. Hope you find somewhere suitable and as convenient to the school as now. Don’t vomit.
Thanks. You’re right – no matter how many fricking times I move house, I still hate the process. I shall try to hate a little more cheerily this time though …
Moving sucks, whether it’s to another continent or just next door. And no matter how many times you do it it still sucks. Hope you all manage to get through it with your sanity intact.