Like giving birth, moving house is one of those particularly onerous and exhausting tasks that, once accomplished, seems to fade into the grey area of memory where you can't imagine that it was as bad as others recall. But it is. And moving house this time has really knocked the stuffing out of me.
I didn't realise just how exhausted I was until I'd handed the keys of the old rental property to the real estate agent, and looked around at the work involved in settling into our new rental unit. Suddenly, the physical and emotional energy expended in the exercise overwhelmed me. So, I ignored the mess, gathered up my needlework and indulged in a few hours of 'me' time. It helped.
***** ***** *****
Two years ago when we moved into the old rented house after selling our residence out of town, Mum was very ill, and we were travelling down to Newcastle to the hospital every day. There wasn't time to move house properly, so we just dumped everything in the two spare rooms, unsorted, and that's where most of it stayed. Consequently, moving house this time was extraordinarily disorganised, especially moving from a 5-bedroom house to a 2-bedroom unit.
My daughter has been a treasure - I don't know how I'd have managed without her. She didn't need to be asked to help, she just turned up, day after day. And she didn't need instructions, she just got in and worked. And when she could see I needed a break, she told me to make a cup of coffee, and relax while she continued. I don't handle watching on while others work, but she insisted, so I rested.
And ten-year-old Madison helped where she could. I commented as to where amongst all the mess would I find breakfast as I prepared to spend the first night in the unit, and Madi said, "Weetbix is in the pantry, Ma, plates are in the cupboard near the stove, and spoons are in the top drawer." What a gem that girl is!
My CWA friends provided timely humour and invitations to morning tea or lunch, and Grahame and I supported each other emotionally, with other important events and necessary jobs happening at the same time as the move.
Today I needed time out with my husband. I wanted to go for a short but scenic drive, and have lunch somewhere charming, yet not bustling with tourists or diners.
Paterson, a country village east of Maitland provided everything on my wish list: once we left the highway, the historic homes and grand trees of Lorn, and the wetlands and green pastures of Tocal made for very pleasant scenery - and the sun shone for us. A beautiful restored bank-turned-restaurant was our lunch stop, with table and seats bathed in delightful winter sunshine framed by fragrant lavender bushes and backed by deciduous trees, and a lovely view of lush paddocks and vegetated hills over the balustrade. The food and wine was delicious, the veranda dining area uncrowded, and we engaged in quality conversation without the distraction of the work waiting at home. A pair of Eastern Spinebills flitted in and out of the tree beside our table, and Fairy Wrens chatted nearby. It was a perfect outing, and I'm now looking forward to organising our new home.
My daughter has been a treasure - I don't know how I'd have managed without her. She didn't need to be asked to help, she just turned up, day after day. And she didn't need instructions, she just got in and worked. And when she could see I needed a break, she told me to make a cup of coffee, and relax while she continued. I don't handle watching on while others work, but she insisted, so I rested.
And ten-year-old Madison helped where she could. I commented as to where amongst all the mess would I find breakfast as I prepared to spend the first night in the unit, and Madi said, "Weetbix is in the pantry, Ma, plates are in the cupboard near the stove, and spoons are in the top drawer." What a gem that girl is!
My CWA friends provided timely humour and invitations to morning tea or lunch, and Grahame and I supported each other emotionally, with other important events and necessary jobs happening at the same time as the move.
***** ***** *****
Today I needed time out with my husband. I wanted to go for a short but scenic drive, and have lunch somewhere charming, yet not bustling with tourists or diners.
Paterson, a country village east of Maitland provided everything on my wish list: once we left the highway, the historic homes and grand trees of Lorn, and the wetlands and green pastures of Tocal made for very pleasant scenery - and the sun shone for us. A beautiful restored bank-turned-restaurant was our lunch stop, with table and seats bathed in delightful winter sunshine framed by fragrant lavender bushes and backed by deciduous trees, and a lovely view of lush paddocks and vegetated hills over the balustrade. The food and wine was delicious, the veranda dining area uncrowded, and we engaged in quality conversation without the distraction of the work waiting at home. A pair of Eastern Spinebills flitted in and out of the tree beside our table, and Fairy Wrens chatted nearby. It was a perfect outing, and I'm now looking forward to organising our new home.
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