... Or Moving In?
Apologies for lack of posts recently - this last week has been a huge blur of madness, mess and picking my life up again since returning from Paris! But also lacking in my life is an antagonist… oh, dear Caroline, where art thou to create chaos and mayhem?
But nevertheless, it is most certainly a lot more peaceful and calming without crazed lunatics in my life other than myself!
It’s hard to believe I’ve been here a week. It feels like forever, but in a good way! Last Sunday I looked round the house for the first time - amazingly even better than the photos, and then after carrying box after box up the stairs, I then decided to put up Rosie’s trampoline (she lives round the corner!) and bounce my troubles away. Yes, putting up a trampoline in the middle of moving house, ha! A week later I am just about unpacked, thanks to the help of my fantabulous bookcase to hold my own personal Blockbuster-sized DVD collection and several under-the-bed boxes for my mass of clothes despite the 3 bin bags of ‘clothes for car boot’. And my cushions fit in beautifully. :)
One of the first nights here, I was unloading more clutter from my car (I cannot believe how much clutter has propagated since I left! I SWEAR this must be proof that my belongings have minds of their own. I throw something out and they breed another 40! They’re like magnets in a room of iron filings!) Anyway, I always walk around outside in socks, which is never a good idea for many reasons, and I came back to my room realising I had something stuck to my foot, so pulled it off, and immediately had a panic attack as I realised I’d trod on some horrendously HUGE spider and I was TOUCHING it. It was IN my HAND. I threw it at the floor, leaping over my suitcases and strewn clothes to my life-saving box of tissues (always there to the rescue to clear up/swat bugs!), and then cautiously returning to peek round the bed post. And all I could think about was that my Dad wasn’t there to rescue me! Life is so tough when one is alone. I guess maybe I shouldn’t be one of those old, lonely cat-ladies as I’d be useless with live mice tearing round the house (I once woke up with a live rabbit hopping madly around my room, brought in by my cat). I can just imagine vaulting up onto a stool holding a broomstick with this mouse scuttling for it’s life around the table… So the reality of living independently: No one to save you.
the crazy happenings in my life