MY back is killing me. You know, that part right at the lower end that hurts from bending over to pack boxes, then lifting said boxes and trying so hard not to place them too closely to the identically packed boxes designated for the Salvos. Yes, yes, I have labelled everything but you know what can happen in the melee of moving day – which is only two days away. Yikes!
And of course, as always, I have been busier, than a one-armed painter work-wise. Speaking of painters, they are busily beavering away painting the new place from top to bottom, which of course means my cunning plan of shifting lots of stuff myself before the actual moving day has gone completely skew-whiff.
The painters, god love their little brushes and rollers, have shoved all the boxes and bags we had already carefully deposited in what will be my son Charlie’s room, into cupboards all over the house – with no note as to what is where!
So here I sit typing away in an almost bare house surrounded by half my life – the other half is in a skip. And when I send this article off into cyberspace, it may be the last electronic communication I have with the world for about three weeks. And that, my dears, is the scariest part of this whole project. Why, I hear you ask? Well, let me tell you.
I have been calling my internet and phone provider, based in WA, every third day for the past month, trying desperately to negotiate the switch of operations of Communique de Mann to our new house. Every time I call, despite various reference numbers I have been given for ‘‘account privacy and security’’, I get someone different and have to start the whole sorry story again.
Then the information my “friendly consultant’’ begins sharing with me regarding the progress of my little connection problem bears no resemblance whatsoever to that of the previous “friendly consultant’’. I have had all the ADSL wires checked by an electrician and I am not asking my provider to manually lay the cable across the Nullarbor in searing heat, I just want them to push the button to reconnect what was there! Am I asking too much?
Hold the phone! There has been a development mid-paragraph! Yes folks, take back what I just said, I have this very moment been sent an email giving me my new phone number. Could this mean my efforts are to be rewarded, or are they just flirting with me, toying with my telephonic affections? I will read on… an estimated date for connection is two days away! Woohoo! But that is, the disclaimer reads, an ‘‘estimated time frame only’’!
Everything one does today takes so much time, even something that should be simple like buying a sofa. The exciting part of this move into my Third Age is the turfing of all my old furniture. Did you know when you buy a sofa, even one that looks exactly like the one you are looking at in the showroom, it takes two months, minimum, to deliver? So guess what? We are taking the old sofa with us, otherwise we would be sitting on the floor for the next eight weeks – minimum. And sitting on a hard floor is no good for my back.
