Well, we’re on the move again.
We were home sharing with Rod’s youngest sister to allow us all to live in the neighborhood with Wenche. With Wenche no longer living here, we’re scattering.
Our lease is up in April, so we have some time to plan, and the rental market here is so fast that anything we find now is unlikely to be available when we’re free to sign a new lease, but we think we have probably chosen our new neighborhood. Maybe even the house, since we know of a cute one currently being renovated and probably available around the right time. Rod is a bit reluctant, because its tiny and mouldy, and other things are available within a block that are much more spacious for the same price, so we’re not making any decisions until closer to the day.
So, I am back to packing.
It’s easier this time because Rod is well enough to help, Jack is old enough to really help, and I never really fell in love with our current place. It’s nice, but I knew it was temporary, so disassembling it isn’t traumatic. Also, we’re moving across town, not across the planet, so it doesn’t have to be done so carefully. Packing starts this weekend with a good cleaning. :p
It’s funny. I have slowly begun to realize that I am just now feeling like my Australian adventure is about to begin. I have been here 25 months, and I thought I was settled in well and well entrenched. We have a daily routine. We have wonderful friends. We know how to get what we need and how to find our way to where we want to go. But when we went to look at the cute little cottage a friend of mine told me about, it felt like I had been holding my breath and waiting. Now I feel like I am breathing again. That isn’t to say I was unhappy. Nor was I unhappy waiting in Los Angeles for five days for a flight that had room to bring us over. Both have been all a part of the process.
Maybe that’s why I am able to blog again? I don’t know.