Moving on, at last

Moving on, at lastSo, the last remnants of my life of the last six years are torn up this week. I have a completion date for the sale of this house and the purchase of my new one. I'd like to be happy about my new house, and I guess I should be. It's a great little house in pretty much exactly the street I would have chosen in the town where I want to live. It's got a lovely little back garden, southerly-facing, plenty of room and green for the menagerie to run around in. Well, Curtis, Edward, Gus, Carly and Jacques anyway. The hamsters stay inside. It's going to be all mine so if I want to decorate the living room with nude posters of Italian porn stars and let the dirty dishes pile up in the sink I damn well can. I won't of course (for God's sake, I have more taste than that), but I could.

But it's hard to be enthusiastic about moving. I bought this house two years with Tasha. We chose this house carefully. We had fairly specific requirements and everything we wanted we found here. This village is a nice place and we have the brook running along the bottom of our front garden. Things were good. However things stopped being good six months ago when she decided she'd had enough of me. It got a whole lot worse real quick and has not really improved but I'm not going to go into that right now. I'm having a hard time trying to pack up this whole house that I never planned on moving from and putting it into boxes. Partly this is simple logistics: I'm a relentless pack-rat at the best of times and, having no intention of moving, I allowed myself to acquire even more crap than usual. But of course it's also the emotional task of tearing apart the remaining pieces of the life we spent over five years building.

However, I still have to get on with it. My completion date is next Friday, May 25. So I need to get my skinny cracked ass in gear. Things are not aided by a two-week trip to Germany four days later. Normally I'd be delighted to be going to Germany. It is after all my favourite country, for various reasons. This jaunt is all work though - well, not all work, I'm going to see Peter Maffay in St. Goarshausen and Mannheim during the last weekend - and exceptionally ill-timed given the house move, meaning that I'm not going to get the time I wanted to settle in and decorate. But there's nothing I can do about that. It can wait, I guess. But boy oh boy is Curtis going to be pissed off about living in a hutch for two weeks when she's used to being free to roam as she pleases. Still, Jon will make a fuss of her when he comes around to feed her, especially if he brings Brenna with him.