O.K. The rest of the family is now talking about it to others so I suppose that I am allowed to as well - we are moving.
On the one hand - great! New house in what looks to be lovely area and a chance to leave the memories tied up in this place behind.
On the other hand - Aah! The current house is a tip, boxes everywhere, packing in progress, trying to work out what can go into storage for possibly six months!
So I am totally up in the air and my head is in a total mess. On top of everything else that I have to try to squeeze into the day (Trike ride to stop my ticker packing in, diary, working on my book and sending off to competitions to try and keep my career a float) I now have to deal with packing and making sure that the dinners get made and the ferret gets looked after. I also had to take the dog for a walk the other day, because the usual walker had totally over done it and had crashed out fast asleep on the sofa.
I am rapidly approaching the point where the amount of work to be done each day is no longer an incentive to get out of bed in the morning, rather it is what is making me pull the covers over my head and do my best to go back to sleep. In a way I am not unsurprised, looking back in my diaries before I packed them up and sealed the box, (one of the advantages of keeping a daily diary) revealed that the last house move took me in exactly the same way. It must be the same instinct that makes a frog cover up its eyes when it sees the approaching ferret - 'if I can't see it maybe it will go away'.
That or I'm on the verge of flinging myself on the floor and having a screaming temper-tantrum. I have done so before and I have found that it gives a huge amount of relief to inner tensions. Not that it does anything for the inner tension of my mother, hence why I'm trying desperately not to do it again.
Can I hold on? Remains to be seen.
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