I am so tired.
Really really tired.
The move itself went fine. Theres were a couple of scary moments – a mover lowering the top of our dining table off the first floor balcony, felt the balcony wall shift* and dropped said table top onto the drive below.
Somehow it got away with only the veneer chipping off one corner – a scar – but one we can live with.
The other scary moment happened not long after, when another one of the movers sliced his hand open on an exposed screwhead in the side of a storage cabinate. Ouch! Poor guy, he had to go to A&E and get stitches.
However a great thing that happened was that the movers managed to get our giant sofa into the front room. In fact it fits in the bay like it was build to be there! We had been so worried that it wouldn’t fit, since it is an amazing sofa that easily works as a single bed if you take the back cushions off.
However being towards the end of my second trimester is starting to catch up with me. The heat, and not being able to move boxes (both from a practical point of view, and because everyone shouts at me when I try), means that moving has – surprise surprise – been harder than I thought, and I’ve needed to rest more that I thought I would. The relaxin in definately in my system, and my lower back and feet ache by the end of the day. Plus currently we have no bath to relax in!
However I have made myself a little nest in the corner of the dining room – one of our yellow-green chairs by the window, where I can peruse my evernote notes (in lue of not having internet till the 8th), and put my feet up. Heaven!
(*it’s safe, but old and we would have had to refurbish it – which would have been a bitch of a job – if we’d stayed.)