Empty inside

Two more worldly possessions went to new homes yesterday as I continue to shed my past. The house is starting to look a bit empty inside.

But not quite empty enough. There is still a big old bookcase, a small old bookcase, a dining table, a coffee table, two rat cages, a small white cupboard and lots of assorted junk that needs to be ditched.

There is a council clean up a few days after I leave, but I am worried that I have too much stuff for the nature strip.

The contents of the fridge will need to be chucked over the weekend, but the bin is already filled to the brim with crap from the eldest’s room.

I will be skulking around the neighbourhood looking for bin space to steal …

The fridge itself will only be transported to the garage of my new apartment. I have decided to treat myself to a new model rather than get the dented, 10-year-old one lugged up three flights of stairs.

At lunchtime today I will get the keys to my new home. It doesn’t feel real yet. It probably won’t feel real until I spend my first night there and that’s not until at least November 9, as the new flooring needs to be installed first.

I am weary from the packing and selling and shedding process. It has been combined with the stress of work and parenting, making hard for me to get to sleep. I reckon I only got about five hours shut eye last night, which isn’t enough.

I will be glad when this chapter is finished and I am settled into my new life.

I am vowing to be tidier and cleaner this time around, to hoard less and choose my food and possessions more wisely.

I don’t have a great track record on that front. In the early days of our relationship, my ex called the space between my bed and the wall “cholera gulch”. It was an affectionate term and there was no actual risk of disease, it was just a humus of clothes and books and bills and other junk.

I have never been very good at order. My entire career before the world went electronic did not contain one neatly filed item. I just piled stuff up on various desks and shelves instead.

Can someone fundamentally change their bad habits in their 50s? I will do my best.

I am also making extravagant promises to go to the gym more and eat less. My clothes are getting a bit too snug …

Perhaps my new home will be the beginning of a whole new me.

In the meantime, I have a crazy weekend of packing ahead, with an ill-timed break on Saturday afternoon to get my roots done.

Wish me luck and I hope all is well in your world.

Song of the day: Sweaty Billy Joel “Just the way you are”