Sometimes, I just have to whinge. Only the poor souls who have this blog on a feed reader will notice this post.
We moved on Saturday. Nothing bad happened, except it was much longer and stressful than anticipated, and ended up costing twice what I'd expected. Certainly hadn't expected it to take in excess of 6 hours. But that's Coogee for you. No parking access for movers, and nothing but tight twisty little stairs.
I had to be present the whole time, and sitting watching people you're paying move large heavy objects in the heat and stairs without assisting is awful. Even though I knew I couldn't do the same without doing damage to myself. Even though I'd specifically paid for these people so I would not have to.
I don't know if I will ever stop apologising for advocating for myself.
The new flat is small, which is fine, but until all furniture is assembled and in place, until the boxes are mostly unpacked and sorted, it's a horrible awkward maze. Cramped cluttered places make for tense little minds.
New location means far more traffic noise. And human noise. Quality of sleep isn't as good, but then, I've been so tired of late it probably hasn't mattered.
Toilet no longer a claustrophobic closet which enforces guilt re: my not having a lovely slender frame. We have an enormous old cast-iron freestanding bathtub which I know will come in very handy.
I'm tired. I'm just so tired. Tendonitis from shoving boxes around to get mildly unpacked. Shoulders and neck and wrists and elbows aflame. Exhaustion so that my bones feel as though they are made with lead and grief. The mental fog is thick as...nothing. Perhaps double cream is thick as cognitive fog.
Even Poppy is exhausted. She spent the first couple of days falling asleep on my laptop. Not playing, not preening. She simply didn't have the energy. Starting to come better now, but it just goes to show how hard an event like this hits a house.
I just.
Wish.
I could be a fully able bodied.
And do these strenuous things our society requires of us.
I'm very tired.
We moved on Saturday. Nothing bad happened, except it was much longer and stressful than anticipated, and ended up costing twice what I'd expected. Certainly hadn't expected it to take in excess of 6 hours. But that's Coogee for you. No parking access for movers, and nothing but tight twisty little stairs.
I had to be present the whole time, and sitting watching people you're paying move large heavy objects in the heat and stairs without assisting is awful. Even though I knew I couldn't do the same without doing damage to myself. Even though I'd specifically paid for these people so I would not have to.
I don't know if I will ever stop apologising for advocating for myself.
The new flat is small, which is fine, but until all furniture is assembled and in place, until the boxes are mostly unpacked and sorted, it's a horrible awkward maze. Cramped cluttered places make for tense little minds.
New location means far more traffic noise. And human noise. Quality of sleep isn't as good, but then, I've been so tired of late it probably hasn't mattered.
Toilet no longer a claustrophobic closet which enforces guilt re: my not having a lovely slender frame. We have an enormous old cast-iron freestanding bathtub which I know will come in very handy.
I'm tired. I'm just so tired. Tendonitis from shoving boxes around to get mildly unpacked. Shoulders and neck and wrists and elbows aflame. Exhaustion so that my bones feel as though they are made with lead and grief. The mental fog is thick as...nothing. Perhaps double cream is thick as cognitive fog.
Even Poppy is exhausted. She spent the first couple of days falling asleep on my laptop. Not playing, not preening. She simply didn't have the energy. Starting to come better now, but it just goes to show how hard an event like this hits a house.
I just.
Wish.
I could be a fully able bodied.
And do these strenuous things our society requires of us.
I'm very tired.
