Thursday, 21 December 2017

Moving House. - I wish I was magic.



Moving fucking house at Christmas in the heat when you quite simply have way way too much shit is just not much fun.I thought after packing way way too much shit into way way too many fucking boxes for 2 weeks might have been the worst of it, but I could not have been more wrong.

Nah the very fucking worst by far and away is trying to establish a house with some sense of the aesthetic, and with stuff stacked into places that should make life a bit easy. You know what I have discovered is that even though in very many ways Stevie and I  see eye to eye, when it comes to furniture placement and establishing places we are chalk and cheese. He wants the garage sorted and organised and I want to be able to sit in the rather bijou lounge room and not be offended by boxes and shit.

The whole house is predictably smaller. That was what we were after, but there does seem to be a bit of a chasm between what we thought we wanted and this place, but once we have sweated shit into place, I reckon it might be OK. And whilst I can't bear the chaos of shit everywhere, I am aware that this place is just a stop gap - temporary, so there must be a fine line drawn between perfect and what you can cope with. Stevie and my lines are misaligned and so it's been a little more than a little fraught.

The neighbours must be wondering who the fuck has moved in.

Monday afternoon saw the arrival of the Telstra bloke - read laziest fucker I have ever met.

Him: I can't do anything here today so I am going.
Me: I don't think so.
Him: The house is not ready and the Council needs to dig a trench.
Me: That's not what I have been told. Please do what you can.
Him: I can't do anything ( so he set up a bit of safety barrier, had a furtle, left, came back and left for good. - No phone, internet, pay TV. )
Me: Ok I get it. You want an paid early mark. On your way lazybones.

The removalists and my lovely girl were using all manner of potty language as he packed up his little bit of shit and as he laughed at us all. Welcome to the neighbourhood! Me? I was ready to have a little cry cos the ordinary tireds had slapped me about the head and every part of my body was an ache, one ache connected to next one, and unusually I was not quick to blame the meds cos I figured there was a pretty good chance I had been going hard at muscles that hadn't seen the light of day for maybe a decade. I just simply didn't have it in me to argue any more.

So still no lines installed. 3 hours on the phone in many conversations prior to Monday and an hour in the actual shop on Wednesday and still nothing. I am left wondering what fucking century it is.

Anyway a wee Vodaphone dongal thing might see us out of trouble or into it, who really knows.

And here we are 4 days from chrissie and I have not yet trawled the shops and have no food in the house and even if there was food I am not certain I would know where the shit is required to cook it or dish it up. I reckon it could well be a strange strange old day, and if was just us I don't reckon I would care too much but even though my Darling Boy must be cracking 6 foot tall, he's only 12 and so can reasonably expect a bit of fuss and a rousing HO HO HO.

I did thankfully find some knickers in a poorly labelled box at 6 am this morning and so now I can stop washing out one of the 2 pairs I could find, in the shower. Really that was too close to camping.

I am wondering if I have it in me to pop to the shops tonight at 10 ish in the hope that normal people have gone home and I can have a look see about. Time will tell.