Tuesday, January 07, 2020

Homing in

This moving house thing is… interesting. There are so many details to tend to, so many opportunities for things to go wrong, it’s a wonder that anyone can get excited about a move. In my case, there’s far more going on.

People often ask me if I’m excited about my impending move, and the simple answer is “no”, but, as is usually the case with me these days, the real answer is, “it’s complicated”. This isn’t about the house (either one), and never has been, and it’s not about moving (that’s a very good thing). Instead, it’s all about why I’m moving: To begin whatever my life without Nigel will be, and that’s still at the centre of everything I do or even think about doing, and I hate that reality. I don’t want a new house, I want Nigel. Why would I be excited about something that I don’t want?

And yet, it IS what I want, isn’t it? I’ll get away from the isolated area where I now live, I’ll be close to family so that when I hit a rough patch, and I will, or when they hit a rough patch, and they will, we can support each other. But it also means quick access not only to family, but also to everyday things like shops—including even the supermarket.

I’m really looking forward to all of that. I can’t express how tired I am of having to drive about 25 minutes to the nearest grocery story—and most of that 25 minutes is spent driving at 100kph, so it’s even farther than it sounds—especially when I get stuck behind a farm tractor for a couple kilometres because the winding, hilly rural roads often have no safe passing areas. Also, the nearest family is about an hour’s drive away from here, and I don’t know anyone here except our awesome next door neighbours.

Leaving here is absolutely the right thing to do, and I’m glad to be doing it.

Toward that end, this past weekend the family and I did the pre-settlement inspection of my new house (and it gave my mother-in-law her first look inside). There were a few minor issues to be addressed, and I think that’s mainly because we moved up the settlement date by two weeks, and many workers are only getting back to work this week. So, I’m not worried about that—it’ll be sorted.

Today I met with my solicitor to sign the paperwork to finalise the sale, transfer the title to me, that sort of thing. It took ten minutes—plus an hour drive to their offices and another hour drive home. Just another of those details to tend to. On the plus side, she mentioned that because we had a lot of lead time, and both sides finished paperwork before the holidays (since time would be short after them), I should get the keys Friday morning, rather than Friday afternoon. That’ll be my first time in the house as its owner, and that’s always a very big deal—but it’s also one I’ve never experienced alone before, without Nigel.

I also found out today that my move-in date will be delayed about a week because the movers are completely booked up the week of the 15th. The problem, again, was the holidays: I contacted them before the holidays, but they weren’t back at work until this week, and that meant the available slots were all filled (I don’t have a contract yet, obviously). I’ll find out tomorrow what the new date will be. Right now, I’m hoping for Tuesday the 21st, my birthday, because moving into my new house then would be a nice gift to myself—and, even better, a nice way to distract myself from my first birthday since Nigel died.

Over the past few months, every step of the way toward my new life has been marked by obstacles leading to changes in my plans, and that includes the fact that I bought the house I did. So far, that’s always resulted in better plans, and this is no different.

Delaying the move a week means I have more time to get ready, because there are some things I want to pack and move myself: I know that it will take me many weeks (well, months…) to get through all the boxes, so some things could be missing for ages. I want everything I need close at hand the day I move in so I can deal with the rest at a reasonable pace.

This also means that I’ll have time to drive down a few car loads, since my car doesn’t hold that much, and to do a few projects in the new house before I shift. I was a bit stressed and pressured by the fact that I want to take stuff myself, but had trouble arranging the time (and space in my car) to get the stuff down there. All that’s solved by the change in plans.

Once again, a change in plans is making my plans better. I say that now, but I was disappointed when I found out the move was delayed. But, I keep moving forward because I don’t actually have any other option.

This moving house thing is… interesting. In my case, however, there’s far more going on, because the reason I’m doing it at all overshadows absolutely everything. Am I excited? “It’s complicated.”


rogerogreen said...

I believe I've moved 30 times. Given I've been here for almost 20 years, my wife mentioning where we might move to someday makes me nervous...

Arthur Schenck (AmeriNZ) said...

I haven't moved anywhere near that often! Somewhere I have a list of every place I've ever lived and for how long, but I'd be surprised if it was more then ten—probably less.