So the day is finally upon us. Almost. In about forty minutes anyway. I write this whilst staring an absolutely humoungous white box sat in the middle of my living room full of kitchen items.
For one thing, my back is throbbing. You wouldn't imagine the pain packing boxes causes you. Constantly lifting and bending down, then back up again only to put something else in the box. I should be used to it really, my old job used to consist of me basically lifting and moving heavy things all day long. But no, my back is in agony. And do you want to know the worst part about it? This is only just the beginning.
Tonight we have OH's friends staying round who are helping us move everything into storage. They'll be the ones lifting and loading into the van, but I know for a fact I'm going to end up chipping in. I don't like to just be stood still whilst other people are working so I'll probably start loading the van up with too heavy boxes and then no doubt complain about it afterwards.
I just can't believe how quickly it's come around. I've spent the last 2 years of my life in this house and this last month has just flown. And I've not even been having fun! It feels like all I've done is pack, organise and throw things away. It's been never ending. Now it's very nearly all done (I should probably be doing something useful rather than typing this, but everyone's nipped out so it's just me, the dog, sleeping baby and a laptop!) and it feels like the time has just slipped past me. I haven't been able to appreciate the house for what it's given me. I know that sounds sappy, but everyone remembers there first house when they moved away from home. Whether it was into dorms, or into a flat, everyone remembers. We were fortunate enough at the age of 20 to move into a 3 bedroomed house. Obviously at the time we didn't need the 3 bedrooms, but the house was pretty much the same rent as a 1 bed flat, and I absolutely adored the kitchen.
Don't get me wrong, we've had some problems with the house. If I'm being honest, it's falling to bits. There's cracks everywhere, the floors either haven't been fitted properly or are just decomposing, the kitchen was fitted by a complete amateur, and let's face it, I'm not in the best area. But all of that being said, I adore this house. It's my first home, I found out I was pregnant 2 weeks after moving in, spent my entire pregnancy here and have raised Princess here since she was born. We'd decorated rooms and colour coded them, we'd accessorised and made things out own. Everything we had was from scratch - we had no furniture, only what we bought with us from our parents and what other family donated. The last 2 years have been spent making this house a home, and now, it's all packed up in boxes.
I'm not going to have another home now for a month. Moving into OH's Mums house is our only option that will allow us to save for another deposit and application fees. I'm looking forward to it, it'll be lovely for Princess to spend some time with her Grandparents, but I'm not sure how I'm going to cope living in someone elses house again. I've spent a fair bit of time there before, and even though I'm comfortable there, it's still not my home. Nothing will be my own, apart from my clothes, so I've no idea how I'm going to adapt after spending so long completely independent. I suppose I won't know until I get there (tomorrow - eep!) but I'm sure I'll be fine.
So now all we have to do is move everything out tomorrow, come back on Sunday and clean the entire house from top to bottom and then give the keys back on Wednesday. After that, we should get our deposit back. I'm excited to look for new houses, to see the new home potential, but I will miss it here. I'm so comfortable and content that it's going to be difficult to find it again somewhere else. Okay, it might not be difficult, I'm comfortable pretty much anywhere, but it's going to be a big change.