sending death threats having some frank discussions on the telephone regarding the utter crappness of our solicitor, it seems that we have a moving date folks. The 11th August. I’ll let that sink in for a moment shall I? Yep, that’s one week from today – aaaannnnidddd PANIC!!
To be fair the house is pretty much done. The living room is full to bursting with packed boxes. Actually EVERY room is full to bursting with packed boxes all labeled and organised in a ‘jeez how much crap do we own’ kind of way. The issue we have (or at least I have, Mr Chic seems confident that is will all be sorted in the flutter of a gnats wing), is the garage and the attic.
Oh dear lord in heaven, the garage and attic!!!
Now I have to come clean here and admit that I knew that Mr Chic is a hoarder when I married him. What I didn’t realise is how organised his hoarding is. Let me explain; an average person would probably be able to fit roughly a third of the stuff that Mr Chic has managed to Tetris into the attic and the garage. There is more crap in the attic and the garage than the rest of the house combined – twice over. And none of it is mine, in fact I have never even entered the attic or the garage. (I once witnessed how traumatised a person offering free insulation was after sticking his head up into the attic and vowed I would never even take a peek up there).
I would love to have remained utterly, blissfully unaware of just how much stuff he has collected by disappearing for a couple of days while he packed it all. But a bout of illness tore away the veil from my eyes. Let’s take all the worry I had about how I would leave this house, multiply it by a hundred, throw in an upset stomach, add a dash of extreme claustrophobia from being literally surrounded in my sick bed by boxes and we’ll call that yesterday shall we?
It’s my own fault, I have seen that man pack enough clothes, toiletries, etc for a three week road trip for two into a Mazda MX5. Why did I not guess that he would take that same knack and apply it to his ‘collections’.
“But all must be well,” I hear you cry. “You’re new house will have garage and attic space galore.” Yeah, there’s a teeny bit of a problem with that logic – there is no new house. You see, despite our best efforts we cannot find a house that feels like home, or at least has the potential to feel like home. The area we’re looking to move to is massively expensive compared to where we live now, which means we have to compromise on something – and that something CANNOT be our love for a house. The last thing we want to do is rush in and buy something because we are, at least technically, homeless only to end up regretting it in six months time.
As for our house in Wales, the house that we were going to temporarily move in to whilst we continued our search, we’ve had an offer on it. And the way the economy has been hit after Brexit, we both feel we’d be mad not to accept it. So it looks like we’ll be living on our boat for the foreseeable future. The biggest worries I now have are how I’ll cope without my shoe collection, and just how much space all that Scalextric track would actually take up if it were all to be assembled!