Saturday August 19, 2006
My system wasn’t demanding sleep so much today. It was more interested in a bit of quiet, unpressured pottering. No driving. A complete divorce from grockledom as exampled on the roads, in the towns and, most especially, up at the clubhouse on the holiday camp.
No problem. I can do that.
So, once I’d woken, written, washed, and spent a bit of time with Dolly on the sofa, I hauled out my files and boxes, and set to the task of putting all the paper work in order and catching up on correspondence.
I’ll be honest, I didn’t really expect to make much headway. You can imagine my pleasure, then, when I found myself filing the last batch of paper away and stacking the boxes up neat as neat, all ready to be transported to the house on Monday. Not just that, but I have a pile of envelopes waiting for postage stamps and to be put into the mail tomorrow.
The only jobs left to do before I can claim truly to be ready for moving day are a grand tidy up and clean in the kitchen, and a few trips to the town dump with the paint cans we inherited with the house, clearing the shelf in the garage for the paint cans we have acquired for ourselves.
The practice of leaving paint cans with the colours for possible use by the incomers to a house is commendable but, in this instance, problematic. It was bad enough eliminating the pinks, lilacs, blues and reds. The thought of perpetuating them is beyond comprehension.
Now, at the end of the day, I find myself refreshed and ready to go out once more to see what’s afoot. My joints, though still sore, are ready for a little gentle action, too. Tomorrow I plan to pop over to Minehead and stroll along the promenade before returning via the supermarket with the makings for a nice crispy baguette lunch when Graham finishes his morning stint. The house is calling me but I think that another day off, especially a break from the routine daily drive to Bridgwater and back, will leave me fit and fizzing, and more than capable of tackling the week ahead.
I’m going to find it strange, having ‘nothing to do’. It’s fortunate, though, that each stage of our long relocation project has gifted me with a short period of inactivity between bursts of work. I intend to make the most of this one, the last, giving me a chance to rest up before moving day and the weeks afterwards when I shall be occupied with the joint task of getting to know my new home town and sorting stuff from cardboard boxes and onto shelves. Graham promises me two or three trips to IKEA in Cardiff, too, in search of bathroom and storage furniture. I’m happy enough with that, especially given his undertaking that each trip will be made early in the day so’s we arrive in time for an IKEA breakfast. I can face anything after an IKEA breakfast.