Keep Calm And Box On
1. There was decluttering
We moved house (in case you missed all of my fascinating insta stories) and when I say house, I mean we moved from a house to a small, so so small, flat (‘apartment’ if you want to get fancy).
Love the flat, love the area we’ve moved back to, love everything about all of that. DO NOT love the moving part of it. The packing, the unpacking, the thinking and, in this case, the immense downsizing and realisation that this is it for us. We aren’t going to be moving back into a big home again.
I’m happy with that. It feels better than good and I’m still reveling in that gorgeous weightlessness that comes with decluttering and donating.
And oh my god, the donating.
I sold a few items (goodbye, sweet fridge) but after a woman bought a lamp and piece of art JUST to stage one of her houses she was selling we decided to donate everything. Everything, everything. Over half my wardrobe went to a family needing some help including some furniture and brand new linens (ironically I donated so many towels and sheet sets we’ve been left short), then we divided up what we thought would help refugee families (my uncle is the doctor at the Mangere Refugee Resettlement Centre in Auckland) which included blankets, duvets, kids stuff, kitchenware, our washing machine and dryer and … more linen. The rest we gave what we thought would bring in some dosh to the Salvation Army to sell. We usually give to Womens Refuge and City Mission so it was good to spread it around a bit. As you do.
I’m telling you this, not for kudos, but hopefully as a reminder that while this isn’t an unselfish act (quite simply, giving feels good to the giver) it’s no bad thing either. There are so many families who go without the basics in this country that I am more resolved than ever not to shop mindlessly.
Feels even better too, if you prepare everything as a gift. Wash and fold clothing with love, polish and clean items so they smell like new and imagine how you’d like to receive them into your home.
No regrets.
Also, no towels.
2. There were tantrums and tiaras
Well, I actually chose my full scrubs and stethoscope situation over the tiaras but only because I’m almost a qualified doctor-ish.
As for the tantrums, I had a few moments I’m not going to lie.
It wasn’t pretty, it wasn’t clever and I don’t think we’ll be hiring the same company. BUT I am still married so that’s a bonus for my husband!
After we spent an entire day at the storage unit taking every single item out and then putting it back in PROPERLY it’s an understatement to say my behaviour was of a fifty-year-old toddler.
Not a proud moment but at least I know where the Christmas tree is and the surf board is within reach. Because of all the surfing I do.
3. There were a LOT of boxes
There are still a lot of boxes. Everywhere. Up hill and down dale and all over the freaking floor. I’ve taken to sitting on the stairs a lot and wishing very hard that they will unpack themselves.
(If Jason Momoa was involved as well I think all the drugs I’ve been taking lately would have been worth it.)
For some reason (delirium probably) my husband packed the kitchen himself and when I went to unpack it on the weekend I found an unusual method to what was obviously important to him or at least what he thought was important to me. The juicer was taken apart and each piece (very clearly not meant to be taken apart) was lovingly wrapped in layers and layers of tissue, followed by bubble wrap (we are recycling, just in case you’re hyperventilating like I was) while something like a fragile vase was popped inside the lettuce spinner.
The plunger (plunger?! From whence did that come?) lovingly wrapped in the same way lay alongside glassware. Unwrapped.
It was at this stage I decided to give in to being sick.
So I have been rattling around our new space (literally, on a cocktail of drugs) sidestepping boxes that cannot possibly contain things we need because THERE IS NO MORE ROOM, working from upstairs on my bed in sweltering heat. The desk needs to be put together and anything that needs assembling is yet another test on my marriage vows which feels far too dramatic at this stage.
There has been also been no yoga for two weeks. This is going as well as expected. Let me be clear, when I haven’t practiced I think it might manifest itself in ways that aren’t conducive to a happy family life.
Thankfully I know which box my yoga mats are in.
The one under the books.
Are you back at work yet? Any hints for unpacking? Or better yet, we could unpack together… that would be fun, she says hopefully.
Photo by Cindy Tang
©The Yoga Connection 2018