Well, I've moved house. Last week was an epic week of shifting furniture and stuff, running backwards and forwards, packing, unpacking and, unbelievably, painting.
My new house is in a town 25 miles away from where I've always lived so everything is all different and interesting. One small thing that is
weird different (to me) is that there are no wheelie bins. All rubbish is put out in bags - "kerbside collection" it's called. Also weird is that so far I have seen no rats despite this.
My lounge, hall, kitchen is by turns neat (when I have found homes for all our junk) and ridiculously untidy to the extent that there is NOWHERE to put your feet. Yesterday, the lounge was so organised I was able to vac the whole floor, then I went back to the lock up and look at it now. Ha, ha!
The kids' dad and I are selling our old house too so we went there last night to check all's well. In the veg plot Ruby was able to fill a shoe box with strawberries and raspberries. She said there are loads more coming too. I knew I planted them for a reason. "There are some other things too", she said, "They are horrible." "Are they sour" I asked. "Yes", she replied. "Blackcurrants?" "Yes, yuk, why d'you plant them". Can't please all the people, all the time. There are six strawberries and three raspberries left in the box 16 hours later.
We also painted the house I rented last year in order to get our bond back. The landlord was going in with the letting agent on Saturday. I haven't heard so far how much he will give me so it doesn't seem too good. I feel a bit aggrieved. I rented the house because it was at a cheap rent for the amount of space offered, this was for a reason. Nothing had been done to it for years. The landing, bathroom, kitchen and one of the bedroom lights did not work and no amount of bulb changing affected that and it was FILTHY. Now that is where I made my big mistake. I thought I can clean this, I can make this lovely. The landlord had lived there and it had been his family home but hadn't lived in it for a long time. There are many sagas about this but all endeavours have not been appreciated by him. I painted an orange room cream, he originally said I could but then said he had not said it. Had a go at me for not painting his pink and match pot painted kitchen in the first three months I lived there. Apparently, as I had been given permission to do so he expected it done and I wanted to get on with it. God, I better shut up, I could write pages on this horrible house. Suffice to say I should have rented the new one I looked at. Still, it's over now. And breathe.
I feel much happier now. Even living on five hours sleep for a month and sorting out chaos, I feel better. Much more myself and at home in my skin. Phew