Thank you for all the kind comments on the last post. It’s been a tough, tough week for our heroine’s fledgling sobriety, the toughest since I began this project six – gosh, six? – weeks ago.
We moved yesterday, although you may see this post some days later because my new house has no internet connection for two weeks, oh the humanity of it, and it was. Well. Things went wrong. The removalist truck got moved along by the council, and then the police, despite me brandishing a permit in their general direction, which meant that the move took twelve hours and cost me a thousand dollars over what I’d budgeted. A friend took the afternoon off to help, borrowed his brothers utility vehicle and arrived like the cavalry, but a particular sort of cavalry which forgot to fill up with fuel, didn’t know how to drive the vehicle, got it bogged halfway down our driveway and blocked the removalists for another hour while the road assistance truck arrived. LH and I, in a desperate attempt to actually get out of the place by midnight and not have to actually sell the clothes off our backs to pay for it, lifted far more things and far heavier things than we should have done for far more hours.
And then it was done, and the children were finally fed and in their new beds, and we sat down with our own delicious meal of vol-au-vents and lasagne, because that’s the sort of thing you eat when you’ve just moved over a decades worth of possessions in one day, and we had this discussion:
LH: I can’t decide whether my back hurts worse than my neck. Hey, did I show you all the bruises on my legs?
Me: Impressive. I scraped all my knuckles down the corridor carrying a box, so I’m just warning you, the house has a taste for blood now.
LH: Actually my back definitely hurts the most.
Me: Mine too.
Me: Yes. Definitely ow. I’m not sure I can actually get up. I might sleep in this chair.
And so my lovely LH levered himself up, fetched two plastic wine glasses full of water, into which he dissolved effervescent aspirin, and handed me one. We clinked and drank them down.
LH: Very happy. I love this house. I love you.
Me: I love this house and you too. Well done us.
Me: Still can’t move, though.
So, no glitter juice. No fancy elderflower cordials. No beautiful glassware. Just us, some boxes, and some aspirin. And a whole bunch of happiness.