I am never. Moving. Again. And by that I mean I am never moving house again, and also never moving my body again. After a full on couple of weeks, this last seven days in particular, I think I need a ten year sleep. Christ. Between moving house, and flying to and from Mackay for my sister’s wedding, I am thoroughly done.
The wedding weekend started off on a bad note, with a text message at 12:15 the morning we were supposed to fly out, informing me that our flight had been cancelled. When I managed to get that sorted, I discovered we were on a later flight, which essentially cut out the day. We arrived late in the afternoon, waited around a bit for an escort to where we needed to be, and then got to my sister’s house.
The last few days involved a lot of rushing around and stressing, in large part from the women in my family. This one was stressed because that one was stressed, and so the whole household was tense. I cooked dinner for 12 in between helping my grandmother with some salad prep and trying to keep everyone calm, especially my sister, who was a ball of stress and apology. I just have to give credit to her maid of honour, who was a big part of the reason why everything went as smoothly as it did, with her no-nonsense organisation skills and vaguely motherly command.
The wedding itself was short and simple, and then everyone was able to relax and drink and dance and enjoy the day. I sang a song, I made a friend (I know, I was just as surprised as you are!), I got mad at people touching my hair, and then the weekend was done and dad and I were on our way back to cold, wonderful Victoria. But things weren’t quite over for me yet.
Today I drove down to the city, to my new home. For the first time, it kind of hit me that I officially don’t live in my home town anymore. With only the remaining drama with my previous house left to really tie me to the town (a blog for another time), I have made the move. Today was largely spent unboxing, organising, unintentionally injuring myself, and the resigned sighs that came with realising I can’t hang curtains in my bedroom…at least not yet. I just have to hope that no creepy perverts live near us with a penchant for peering in uncovered windows. I’m in a position now where I have a billion things to arrange and sort out, and no more energy to worry about it. So for now, I’m giving up. I’m going to hunt down some food, sit on the couch and do absolutely nothing for the rest of the night. Solid plan, no?