Got here!

This is a tired little post delivered through my weary fingers from my somewhat satisfied but bed-ready head, from a very messy but nonethless lovely and tree house-like new upstairs attic bedroom. It is a post of having arrived somewhere new, of adapting and of dealing with every little item you own and finding it a place to go. yesterdaty i arrived at my new house in the city, leaving the mountains behind, arriving in the next chapter of my life (or at least somewhere on the blank page waiting for the next chapter to be written).

The last week was a bit of a marathon, eek moving is hellish. Yesterday I arrived at the new place feeling tired, hot and sweaty, bruised and scratched, and like my batteries had seriously run flat. But like child birth I suspect some magic hormones kick in to mask the lingering mermory of the pain so that you go ahead and move again sometime in the future. Moving house involves deep well-fulls of denial (I have extra specially deep reserve of denial, so I am welll adapted for this) such as 'no no it'll be fine the truck comes tomorrow at 9, I'm sure I can pack these last few...room fulls before then'. Errrm, think again sunshine. It involves staring at little corners of paperclips, rubber bands, bobby pins and ten cent pieces and wanting nothing more than to turf them in the nearest bin but feeling obliged to stash them somewhere, maybe in your pocket?, because you know, they'll be useful somewhere. It involves a transition from deep nostalgia to complete indifference to objects, a transition that takes place the more boxes you have packed and the more scrappy the items left to pack become. Where you face off objects you don't and have never liked but that were gifts from some relative and you have so far felt obliged to keep, but now nudge closer and closer to the giveaway pile.

It involves having to get up close and personal with your every material foible - it is like the day of reckoning decorated with masking tape and to do lists; where you are forced to acknowledge the material evidence that suggests you are a hopeless romantic old letters and postcard keeping, novelty clothes loving, jacket-hoarding, old teddy-bear owning, booklugging, vase accumulating, alcoholic glassware collecting type. Yeah whatever. Common wisdom may sugggest that 20 plus jackets is too many, but I beg to differ, even after having to haiul them from one end of the earth to the other.

It is also a time of experiencing extraordinary generosity and acts of whimsical kindness from those around. Giving you little prompts of helpful kindness along the way., And sometimes big ones! See the post below that I wrote last weeek but never quite got to post - and add to it since then the many lovely going away dinners arranged and attended by mountains friends such as the divine mountainspice, the packing wizardry of Miss Cornflower who had my ornaments packed before I could say 'was that milk in your tea?' one saturday night. Giant oh my goodness pinch me I think I might cry thanks to Aunty B who came up all impromptu like one night last week and gave me a morale boost, helped me pack till midnight and then up again the next morning 6ish for more packing and car filling and driving me and carfull of stuff to new house behind the truck. Thanks to Mango Mitzu for amazingly being at my doorstep at 10am yesterday to help with the final odds and sods removal from the old house, cat hiding and then driving me and cat and stuff to the new house. Sorrry to all folk who I failed to see / email/ call/ attend events of in the last week or maybe even the last year of commuting.

First impressions of new suburb, new house, living with other people again, how exactly I will fit my jackets in my room, what bed I end up buying, how the cat is settling in, and how I'm going with unpacking those pesky boxes will all have to wait. I'm off to get some sleep ready for my first exciting morning of being able to walk to work! Yihah.