They say 3 things....

...are the most stressful in life: death, divorce and moving house. Thankfully i don't know about the first one. But I have recently come close to the second due to the third. Oh my god to say moving is stressful is a gross understatement - like saying women quite like handbags and men quite like touching themselves even surreptitiously as often as they can!

I have moved. I have house. I have no furniture for said house. Until Friday I had no TV or broadband - I felt like I was on freakin' Mars. Husband turned into a creature from Mars. We rowed. In between rowing we unpacked and painted and rowed some more. Over what? Him going to work on the day after we moved leaving me knee deep in boxes with a howling hungry 23 month old. Him arriving at the new house 4 hours before me - and unpacking....nothing, but building a BBQ. Him spraying droplets of paint around the lounge after he failed to put down any newspaper or dustsheets. We now have a fetching spotty modem and phone cradle. One little acorn of a row managed to grow into a great big tree. It culminated in world war 3 on Sat night when he stormed out and didn't return until the next day. I think if it hadn't been Father's Day and if I hadn't eaten a truckload of humble pie I might have been able to tell you how stressful divorcing is as well. Sproglet was unnerved by his enormous room, but has now acclimatised and loves to bring in a truck filled with small stones and deposit them in the kitchen, on the stairs and in empty shoes laid out in the hall.

The house is spacious but filled with boxes. It has a garden filled with weeds. It has a dining room with no table or chairs. A lounge with no soft furnishings. But if is beginning to feel like home. I now drive to and from work and listen to the radio, humming along with happy tunes as sunlight streams through the windows. I have seen more green in a week than I did in 13 years in London. I feel more 'normal' whatever that means. Barefoot I pad around the polished floorboards and step into the underfloor heated bathroom. I wander around the hall and up and down the two flights of stairs. I wonder if we will ever fill the space. And if our marriage will survive this damn move. Fingers crossed for both eh?
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