Aint that the truth… Image by 21Creative
I used to love moving house as a kid. It meant a new bedroom, a new place to explore and something a little exciting happening in our otherwise pretty normal lives (what normal means to me might be questionable however).
We moved a lot, and when I made the leap from Perth to Melbourne about 7 (7!!???) years ago, it was another big adventure. Since then, I’ve probably lived in about 10 different places, in numerous arrangements. I used to joke that we must have had Gypsy blood. In fact, I had secretly hoped it once – but this may have been heavily influenced by characters such as Ali Hakeem from ‘Oklahoma’ and Prospero from ‘Kiss Me Kate’…. but that’s a topic for another day.
Now? With husband, puppy and a mountain of props in tow – I HATE moving.
I really dislike everything about it, except perhaps the new place and the opportunities it holds (HELLO – huge area to build a prop shed for moi!). The planning, the packing, the clearing, the cleaning. Horrid. And having to go back to the old place to make sure it’s all ship-shape, when you then find you’ve invariably left a whole lot of little things in the tops of cupboards that you can’t reach – unlike!
BUT – we have moved now and we are settling in. I like to think of myself as a “speed nester”, which saw the whole living/kitchen/dining space set up on the first day of the move (including artwork). True story. Sure there are rooms with doors closed that are crammed with boxes..but I’ll get to those. Just after I have this coffee…
Where did that disco ball come from?