Have I mentioned I hate moving house? No? Well I do.
It reminds me how easily I accumulate crapola, and how I have to sift through it to make sure I’m not just trailing it all over the place like a big trash heap from Fraggle Rock.
Also, and I think this is important to consider before you try and placate me with “new start new job new home new blah blah blah” I have moved home 12 times – 4 of those within the last 5 years. It’s not fun – and it’s known to be one of the top ten most stressful things you can do.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m excited about living in a new home and finally living with my doggies again; I’m looking forward to discovering new places to walk and run, and to eat! I’m hoping that the local pubs will turn out to be lovely and dog-friendly. I am, of course, mainly looking forward to making my long-distance relationship a very short-distance one.
My new role is at the excellent maternity hospital, and isn’t too far a drive from home, but of course that will come with all the new girl worries, as well as different Trust policies, and hierarchy, and extention numbers, and corridors, and keys and argh!!!!
I’m going to miss my friends and will increase my FOMO 100-fold, as events and shows come and go on my Facebook, and photos of people having an excellent time doing everything litter my timeline.
Yes I will make new friends, and join new groups and do new things, but it’s inescapable to fear being forgotten, in a way.
And yet, today, I suddenly feel ready. Ready to start a new adventure, to meet new challenges and to carve out a path for myself whereby I can do what I have wanted to for years:
Live a simple, relatively normal, everyday life.
Most of my belongings are packed, and the removal van is booked. I finish my career at McDonald’s on Sunday, and I have a week to tie up loose ends.
But, I’m ready. Let’s do dis