This has been the longest I have been away from writing in 7 years.
I simply have not had the space in my brain to include blogging.
Well, my first night in this new house cured me of that little hurdle.
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I got back a three days ago, having been away almost 6 weeks, 6 glorious weeks, in the west of England.
I stayed in a seaside town where foxes sunbathe on flat roofs, magpies follow cats around, seagulls yell at you for food.
Where the beach is a 5 minute walk from the flat, and someone named Tom shops at the local Tesco Express wearing a dressing gown (aka bathrobe).
In between living like a local, I tackled post-house-fire (see previous post) stuff like renters insurance and breaking leases and searching for a new place to live.
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I was 10 days away from being homeless when I stumbled upon a red colonial house, about 15 minutes from where I was. So, still near the airport and my brothers.
I signed for the it, sight unseen. Which is crazy. But the house had charm and was nice, so too was the owner. And, as I always say, nice is just so, well, nice.
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On Wednesday, I took my normal 4 airport routine back here, arriving just before 10pm.
I checked myself into a downtown hotel for two days. worked from the hotel room on Thursday, and had the keys to Big Red by 1pm on Friday.
Yesterday afternoon, I spent bought necessities, like towels, dish soap, napkins, loo paper, pillows, an inflatable mattress, a shower curtain, scissors, a screwdriver.
In the process, I realised I don’t even have an oven mitt anymore. I still don’t.
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Then I went over to the old place and picked up a few pictures and my plants (having apologised profusely for neglecting them). And took quick inventory of my stuff, still in the same spots as they were on March 18th.
At least the smoke smell has subsided.
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At precisely 5pm, I poured myself a glass of wine and rang Marty in Wales.
I so needed to hear a familiar kind loving voice.
I sat outside the entire time we talked because the echo inside the house is overwhelming.
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And here I sit, still day one for at least thirty more minutes … Typing and navigating through the waves of panic that have been continuously since I woke up.
Sigh.
It’s not just the size of the place that’s freaking me out.
During the walk thru, I absolutely became aware that this house is way beyond my maturity level, with far too many rooms that are each too large for my minimalist non-material Self.
It’s also that there’s so much stuff still to do.
I still have to move out of the old place (getting quotes nows). I’m flying back out on the 6th. I have a major deployment at work next week. I have a new place to get used to, and all those normal growing pains that comes with newness.
Add to that, I’m fighting my life long fear of being a caged bird in an adult world.
Also, I’d rather be in England.
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So, I’m fairly safe in confidently stating that I am a wee bit stressed at the moment.
It’s not so fun being the innovator, the follower and the cheerleader, all at the same time.
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But writing helps.
Writing always helps improve the mood, and often offers a path.
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And with that, my positive take away from this first day in the new house is: The coffee was pleasant this morning. I figured out the thermostat. And about an hour ago I discovered that the curtain rods can be moved further up the window to offer better privacy.
Now, if I only had remembered to buy a measure tape …
Baby steps, right?
Happy Saturday.