I must apologize for the sad, lonely and empty space that this blog has been for the last couple of weeks - I have not even managed to generate any enthusiasm for posting about knitting ! That's how bad it has been. Thank you for your kind messages of inquiry and concern.
Let me tell you the basics of the story in pictures, as it will be way less hassle for all of us than if I use only words:
this is me tootling along in the rut and routine that is my usual life.
Nearly 3 weeks ago, our landlady phones me to give us 8 weeks notice to quit, she has to sell the house.
I am doing pretty well at learning Drama from Mini Diva (or maybe it's a combination of hormonal imbalance plus lack of meds), so I cry, wail and generally run round in a panic. I am not good at change, and I feel like Chicken Licken.
I worry that we will not be able to find a house in the same area for the same cost within the time frame - and even if we do, how will we raise all the cash for a deposit, admin fees, month in front etc. I try to imagine how we will all sleep in Wilhelmina, even though she is a big car.
It takes me a while, but eventually I calm down. Panic is surprisingly tiring.
My friend Andy generously shares his time and expertise to reassure me.
My Eviller and Good Twins shore me up, as do my local friends. They - quite nicely - tell me to get a grip. I am blessed to have them.
I not only find my Big Girl Pants - I put them on.
I start to view houses. I find 3 in the area I need, I view 2. I pick one.
The house we are in is small, drafty, Victorian and beginning to need some substantial work done on it. The house I have picked is much more spacious, more modern, and warmer. At the top of the hill, it is much closer to Mini Diva's primary and high schools. However, Destructo Boy's days of late-sleeping mornings are over: his school is at the bottom of the hill.
Titch is loaned the cash. I pay the deposit, and order boxes. I do this along with everything associated with Mini Diva's 11th birthday. The washing machine breaks, and I have been waiting 14 days (so far) for them to have a new drum delivered to the engineer.
I spend an enchanting evening at A&E with Mini Diva, as some lump of a boy bowls her over and squashes her during a basketball tournament match - they think her wrist is broken, but it turns out to be a very bad sprain.
I am amazed to find that I am still standing. There is no longer any booze left in the house.
I start to sort, bin, and pack.
That was my last 3 weeks.
One week til the move.
I'll be back when I can - be assured, I won't forget you.
