5 observations on moving
house
There’s nothing fun about moving house.
If it's one thing I know it's kitchens and late on the
Saturday afternoon of the move, I refused to leave until the kitchen was pretty
much done. On my hands and knees, and feeling one hundred, I called out, ‘So
how old do you feel? The Lovely Deputy replied, ‘Well I feel my age. This is
not the elixir of youth baby.’ ‘Aint that the truth.
The next day, the carpet cleaner turned up too jovial
for a Sunday morning and asked with a smirk, ‘So how’s the moving going’. Recognising
his sadist trait, I replied, ‘Fantastic! I can’t get enough of it!’
Reconciling two households means we now have a
refrigerator shelf full of half used chutneys and sauces.
The Lovely Deputy has vast quantities of patience
and stamina. What I lack in these gifts I hope I make up for in cleaning and
organisational skills. It seems like a perfect match.
The best way to end a move is to drink cocktails.
And so we found ourselves at Pumphouse for a belated breakfast martini, pork
sliders, fries and excellent service.
And the for those interested in the Editor’s cut,
the sixth observation is that tomorrow morning when I wake up, he’ll be there,
and the day after, and the day after, and the day after that…
