I am NEVER moving again. I swear. After 14 house moves I’m done. Three moves ago my partner and I moved in together. Two moves ago my partner and I moved together in the first few weeks after I had quit teaching for health reasons. This last move was the first time either of us have ever owned a property, and technically we only own 35% of it as we couldn’t get a mortgage for any more than that.
Moving myself is hard enough. Moving him and me? Hell on earth. Moving him and me and dealing with housing buying shenanigans? Well that is enough to drive a woman to drink. Or gain 10 pounds. Or both. Oh and doing it in a heatwave? Enough said.
We’ve been in our new house for a couple of weeks now. Today is the first day I have had my desk set up and I was itching to write a blog post. I have been playing around with graphics on my iPad as you may have noticed but today is the first time I have been able to sit at a keyboard and type. Bliss.
I need to write a post about book shelves soon because I HATE our current solution. I tolerated it in the last house but now I have had enough. I want to see the books not hide them behind each other.
I have hardly read anything in the last couple of months. The odd bit here and there but nothing like the old routine I used to be in. My mental health has suffered as a result. Reading isn’t the only routine that has gone out of the window. With things still in boxes and not really knowing where the things I have unpacked are either I am struggling.
The important thing is to keep going. One day at a time.