The move went well, all things considered. We've done it so many times now that we've got our little systems in place which help, but it all takes so much longer than you initial think and plan. We did all we could but started to flag at the sight of the larger items; the sofa, book shelves and the dreaded wardrobe. Thankfully though, Chris's dad came over to help and got his sleeves rolled up straight away and somehow, we managed it all. We couldn't have done it without him.
The following morning we were up just as early and as Chris dropped off the van, I went to our empty flat to clean every inch and get it looking immaculate. It's a tedious, thankless task. In some ways I like doing it, it's my way of saying goodbye to the place - i'm scrubbing away our memories for the new tenants, it's removing our personality - it's almost a way of thanking it for the times that we shared and enjoyed. The woman came to 'check out' and her screwed up face asking 'so, did you have this place professionally cleaned?' just left me feeling blank. I couldn't lie, but I felt the '-£200' rise above my head and I just felt so disappointing. All this effort, for what?
We still don't know, we haven't heard back from the estate agents yet but as much as I hope they'll be kind, I won't be surprised if they take an eye-watering amount away from us. I need that money so much and it just feels like it's already dissipated. When we got to our new home, surrounded by boxes and everything muddled everywhere, I just started crying. It was relief and sadness escaping me. We unpacked everything we could and now it feels a lot more like home, but it's freezing cold, I can't figure the heating out and the shower doesn't work - it won't work. I just feel as though we've taken an enormous step back...
I think we're both just tired.
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