For the last four years we have operated from two different homes, one an apartment at the beachside resort that Benny manages and the other our Funny Farm in the hinterland. The First World Problems that this duplicity caused were many, some of which I recounted in past blogs. But as of last week, two homes merged into one as we gave up our beachfront dwelling opting to consolidate and live full time at the house. This means for me that I have no commute to work, a short drive to deliver our son to school and no more Mrs Pack Mule every Monday and Friday dragging bags of clothing and eskys full of food foreword and back.
Packing should have been my profession as I have had to do it so many times I have it down to a fine art. Thank goodness it was a fully furnished unit as I still managed to fill twenty five packing boxes with the accumulation of five years worth of clothing, books, food and gadgets and that included getting rid of the equivalent of six boxes worth to the Salvos and another half dozen to the dump. It took me just shy of two days to move us out, including two trips in the Prado and another with the aid of my husband his ute and trailer.
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| Two salt, two oil, two this, two that. |
So we are home, which is awesome, but the weird thing about this move that hasn't been the case before is we moved into a home that was already fully set up and filled with our stuff! So now what? I have two of everything! Two toasters, blenders, food processors, too much clothing to fit in the minuscule cupboard in our bedroom, two of pretty much everything in the baking department including all the ingredients and not enough space to fit it all in. The fridge overflows, the pantry door is bulging out, and condiments…. don't talk to me about condiments!
I know I must unpack but where will it all go? Our dinner set alone can now feed a group of twenty four people all off the same style plates (which by the way this dishwasher doesn't like accommodating). But as is typical of any move, the one thing I was looking for to use to cook tomorrow nights dinner is nowhere to be found, still in the recesses of a nameless, label-less, hastily packed, bottom stacked box somewhere in the garage.
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| Pantry bulging at the seams. |
But at least we are now in our own home sweet home. I don't need to feed the dog too early and coerce the chickens into their run before they are ready. Now they can put themselves to bed at their leisure. We can enjoy a fire every night if we wish, and welcome neighbouring children over to roast marshmallows on sticks. Lawson can sleep in on school holidays and I can work before or after normal work hours if I feel so inclined (which is rare just quietly).
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| Fridge is finally full! |
The person whose routine has been the most upset is of course Benny’s. He now has the commute too and from work, it has thrown his gym workout into disarray, and he has to open and close the gate twice a day to prevent the chickens and dog escaping. Hummmmm, four days it took him, and there, at the post office for me to collect was the remote controlled, automated gate opener I have been asking for, for oh, I don't know, about four years!
