Moving house is listed as one of the greatest stresses we can endure on all those funky stress lists that pop up from time to time. It's there alongside losing a loved one and divorce and going bankrupt. I wouldn't put it in the same ball park as losing a loved one....believe me...it's nowhere near as bad as that...but it's bad. It's stressful. It's terrifying and a little bit exciting as well but in a really big roller coaster way.
Am I doing the right thing? I've become settled if not overly comfortable in my renovated Queenslander. It's been home for a few years now and some great things have happened to me while I have lived here. I started a new chapter, a new life here and even though the place doesn't have a bathtub (I kid you not...three toilets and showers and no bath), I'm going to miss it. The rabid possums having rave parties in the roof, the sounds of sirens along Old Cleveland Road, the neighbours in the unit block next door.....no, I can't back that up....no, you neighbours, I shall miss you the least.
But life is change and growth and my ever shrinking family has outgrown this little place. We seek new digs and a bathtub (and there is the little matter of having to relocate for work).
The first thing I did was give official notice here on my rental house. That was setting the destination. A date. Next I chose an actual destination. That much must remain a secret because I like to keep my whereabouts to myself. I can say I am seeking water and proximity to good schools and wonderful friends. Closer to my work ...and closer to those I will be writing about.
I booked a removalist and that brought out the paranoid neurotic in me. I was sure every place was out to get me...a scam, a Nigerian scheme set up in Brisbane solely to steal my hefty deposit. Needless to say, I think I have ended up with someone reputable. Do you know that removalists charge about ten dollars a book....or so it seems...? My library rivals the Brisbane State library and I have had to be ruthless and discard stupid books that do no more than fill shelves...did I say Dan Brown? No I didn't but he's not going to take up space in a box, nevertheless. I have sent bags and bags to Lifeline and will be throwing a wing-ding garage sale and Woody and Buzz will be up for grabs. Sorry guys.
My greatest obstacle to date is finding a nice Property Manager who will help me find exactly what I'm looking for. Luckily they do exist and yet so many are ...well...I don't really know because they don't answer emails, queries or their phone calls. They are elusive and very hard to pin down. However...two of many have been bending over backwards to help me out. They understand the difficulty I face in moving while working and juggling career and motherhood and packing and organising etc....I am so busy I had to pay a stranger (friend of friend of friend) to inspect a property for me because it would have been easier for me to get to Timbuktoo than to the designated inspection time. God Bless him for doing it. I work. To pay rent. So it's hard to take time off to inspect a place and still convey the idea that I have a good work ethic! I tell you.. this process is harder than juggling cats.
I haven't found what I'm looking for yet....I pray that the right place is waiting for me and will pop up just as I need it. But I tell you, the whole ordeal of moving, is STRESSFUL!
My plan is to buy a cottage by the sea in a few years and then this rental rigmarole will be a thing of the past.
I tried to do some meditation to an Indian CD I have this morning and the man singing annoyed me so much I frisbeed the thing across the room.
You know what I need? A deep soothing bubble bath! But I can't because this blasted place doesn't have a bath. Thank God I'm moving! No bath! Honestly!