Yesterday was my husband's birthday. Now you know the sort of person that always says they don't want anything for their birthday and that they don't want a fuss, well that's him.
As he sat up in bed though with a steaming hot cup of tea, a pile of cards to open and hastily (and badly) wrapped presents, you could tell he was loving it!
What is it about being married that you breathe a silent sigh of relief as every other card opened is from your side of the family and that they remembered? Sadly I can't lay claim on that feeling totally, but I'm not here to name names. Sadly, living in Canada with a haphazard postal delivery service, especially to us country folk tends to mean that not all mail gets to us on time. In fact I consider ourselves very lucky if we get it at all!
Numerous items have mysteriously disappeared over the years, never to be seen or heard of again. A Permanent Resident Card, for example, never showed up. You can imagine the problems I had proving that and obtaining a new one. Packages from our loved ones abroad, just disappeared in to the black hole without a trace.
Anyway, I digress. I bit my tongue as my husband sat and watched soccer all morning, then the Grand Prix in the afternoon (a duplicate of the day before). I was silent and smiling instead of screaming telling him we had a house to pack up in under 2 weeks! I was polite and loving as I cobbled together lunch and was slightly surprised when he agreed to help clear out the sheds. 'One job less to do', I thought as the rain drizzled on us in the cold autumn wind.
Our clocks went back an hour at the weekend too, so instead of laboriously changing them all, I simply took out the batteries and packed them away, ready for our move.
At the moment our house looks like a bomb has hit it from a great height. Every room has a pile of boxes adorning the wall. I know it will all come together in the end and I enjoy picking away in different rooms to give me variety as I work.
Today I emptied the kitchen dresser in to 3 boxes, another good job done. I booked the heated storage unit in our new town and modified our removal truck order. I've advised 4 companies of our new address and made a host of phone calls too. In 12 days we say goodbye to this home and make our way across the Prairies to our new one. I have sorted paperwork and spoken to family via phone and e-mail.
Later today, I am selling some of our unwanted items to make more space and more cash. I so look forward to a feeling of a new 'clutterless' house and have filled 2 more bags for the charity shop.
I have more lists than I know what to do with and feel if I don't write things down, I will remember them after we have long left this place and are at a point of no return!
I would love to fast forward 12 days now and be on our merry way with no worries in my swimming head. But would I really? I am savouring each day as I wander around the house, yard and woods talking to the birds, squirrels and chipmunks. We saw a deer grazing on the acorns last week and I hoped he would not come back after we'd left. I intend to leave a plentiful supply of seed for the birds and the chipmunks as I bid them farewell. I want to make the most of our last 2 weeks, enjoy the house we've loved so much and grown in. I'm reminded of the Steve Martin movie, Father of the Bride II where his family are moving and they mope around taking photographs of everything before they leave.
Not me, it would upset me more to look back at them knowing I'd taken them the day before we left. I'd rather just keep it all in my head as a fond memory. One day when my memory fails, then it won't be a problem any more will it? Now where did I put my lists......?
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