Anne here, and things are getting shaken up in my neck of the woods. I say "things" but really, I'm the one that's all shaken up. I've mentioned from time to time on this blog that I was decluttering — well, now it's the Big Event. If you've been following my personal blog, you'll see that I'm moving.
I've been waiting to get my little house renovated for years now — it badly needs it — and my plan was to move out to give the builder free rein to do it all at once — from replastering and painting walls and polishing floorboards to a complete new kitchen, laundry, bathroom and deck.
But the builder has been nowhere in evidence, and hasn't contacted me for more than 18 months — and he told me back in 2018 that he would start in March 2019. But I know he's been working on friends' properties, so I finally got fed up, and since it's the second time my renovation plans have fallen through, I saw a house advertised for sale, had a rush of blood to my head, bit the bullet and bought it at auction — which was quite nerve-racking. And I still can't quite believe it.
It's a lovely house, the same era as my current one, but fully renovated with lovely polished floorboards and a gorgeous kitchen, and the only thing I will need to do when I move in is get a dog door put in for my Milly-dog. The garden is also much smaller, which will be easier for me to manage.
But now I need to sell my house to pay for the new house, so an auction date has been set (most houses here are sold by auction) for next month, so I'm madly decluttering, sorting, carting stuff to the op-shop (charity shop — short for opportunity shop) and throwing stuff out.
It's so hard to do. So many thing spark memories, and it's too easy to let myself get distracted. Luckily I have friends who descend and nudge (or boot) me onwards. I know that when I finally move into the new house it will be so much better, but uprooting myself from this house (where I've lived for decades) is harder than I thought it would be.
Partly it's because after a childhood and youth of moving every year or two, once I bought this house in my 20's, I stayed put (apart from various overseas trips). So it's a bit like uprooting me from my past — which I know will be A Good Thing in the long run, but right now, it's hard.
My dog doesn't like all this fuss and bother either — as far as she's concerned we're either going for a walk or we're not — and what are all these boxes doing, taking up room in the sunny spot where she likes to lie!
And it's going to feel weird, having strangers and neighbors looking through my home. My decorating style is quirky, rather than fashionable — I like color and the current fashion is for grey, white and black with perhaps a cushion or two for color contrast. And I don't have a dishwasher, or clothes dryer, but I have shelves and shelves of books in every room (except the bathroom and laundry.)
I'm only tidying the bookshelves at the moment and removing the ones that don't fit — my TBR pile has gone. The big painful Culling Of The Books (shudder) will take place after the auction, when I'm doing another big declutter in preparation for moving house.
So forgive me for this short and very personal blog, but right now I'm short of time. I'm also doing page proofs of my next book — The Rake's Daughter — in between culling, packing and cleaning.
Have you moved often in your life, or have you stayed put for a long time, like me? And do you have any tips or advice for me?