Overwhelm

We are T-26 (where T = moving aboard day).  Now that I am officially unemployed, I have been throwing myself into Getting Rid of Stuff.  I’ve been packing non-essentials like pictures and photo albums, sorting out/donating clothes and selling stuff on Facey or filling boxes for the charity shop.

I have to say, I’m pretty rubbish at it.  I find myself walking in small circles sometimes, from kitchen to laundry to bedroom, picking things up, putting things down and getting distracted.  Facebook is the worst! Don’t ever try selling stuff on there! It’s so easy to get led down a little Facebook lane where you amble along, enjoying the Facey sights, reading everyone’s comments, looking at all the pretty flowers in the hedgerow etc etc.

And before you know it, when you pop your head up out of the bubble, you find 45 minutes have passed and you have achieved NOTHING! In fact I nearly made an offer on a ping pong table yesterday.

We’re moving onto a boat.  And I was tempted by a ping pong table.

Henry the Ford

The hardest things to sell have been Matt’s beloved tinny and 1966 Ford Falcon.  He’s had the car for 28 years! and the tinny nearly as long.  They’ve both had a lot of love – mainly in the pre-kids days – but have been languishing for a while now.  Matt actually used the Ford as his main car until Tilly was born 9 years ago  No seatbelts in the back meant the start of Henry’s retirement.

It’s still a huge wrench for Matt, and not a decision I’ve ever wanted to be part of.  It had to be completely his choice.  Making fun adventures happen can cause sad things to happen along the way.

Thinking inside the box

We’ve also started two weeks of holidays in Aus, so the kids are home.  I had these delightful thoughts of us all working together to pack up the house.  Laughing and chatting and wiping away the odd tear from happy memories, as we sorted through our possessions to decide what to keep and what to “pass on with love”.  Instead the kids are making the most of the holidays and my inattention by running totally wild; creating “dyes” in the treehouse from blueberries and glitter glue, playing “mustangs and mountain lions” (I blame Netflix), racing around the house and through every room.

I find myself miserably wading through piles of dressups, sketchbooks and strange glittery puddles to get from one room to the other.  Getting them to brush their teeth seems like an achievement, and them helping to unpack the dishwasher is a major undertaking.  The civilising reins of school have barely been loosened and they’re kicking over the traces already.  I can hear the shrieks from the bottom of the garden from here.

The dog is a saint

To add to the challenges of the kids on holidays, the siren call of social media and really not enough time to half the things we need to do in order to rent the house out: we also have the internet playing up and one of the cars now needs a lot of work and money (didn’t know that).

Plenty to get on with then.  I might just have a little peek on Facebook before I get back into it.