We're in. We've survived. We love our new abode but oh heck, how stressful was that.
Two Friday afternoons prior to moving date were the most stressful of times. Phone calls, emails, solicitors, agents, previous occupiers, buyers - we were in hot pursuit of them all. Last minute panic about exchanging contracts, removal date etc saw me with a very poor night of sickness and diarrehea prior to commence moving day.
Boxes, boxes, boxes. Cleaning, cleaning, cleaning. I was exhausted. But without a look back I stepped out of our home of 30 years with a 'goodbye house' and no regrets. Stepping into the bungalow started the reverse of events. The removers were brilliant - calm, helpful, cheerful. Unloaded all our worldly goods into various spaces and only a cheap clock face was broken. Now where's the kettle. I made everyone drinks and felt the relief flood through my vains.
We have now emptied most of the boxes or stuffed things in cupboards, cabins, shed or the loft until we find proper homes for all items. In the meantime its a daily occurrence to say 100 times 'where's the... ' to each other.
Cleaners and an oven firm came in as a one off - I employed someone else to do some essential (mindful of Covid) work. It immediately feels like home and settling in is an on-going process of meeting the neighbours, being acquainted with the locality and its amenities etc.
Thanks to everyone who has sent us good wishes on social media, cards and gifts. It delights my soul to know you care.
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