So for a while I was happy, things were going great. My job was brilliant, challenging and fun, my husband was attentive, funny and just right for me, my daughter was turning into a wonderful young lady. Then we decided to buy a new house and seriously it's as though everything has gone crazy. I know they say moving house is amongst the most stressful events in life, but this is silly.
It's not as though I hate my home, quite the opposite in fact, I love my home, it looks perfect, it's the right size and I have worked hard to make it look just the way I want. So why are we moving?
It all started with Grandma. She lives some distance away and needed to move closer. I understand that, I wouldn't want to be alone in my old age. So we began looking for her and nearly died at the price of units and apartments and came to a conclusion that if we were going to become paupers then we should at least gain some benefit from the process.
Thus began the house hunt. I would prefer to be tracking a serial killer. I think it would be more exciting and infinitely less stressful.
So I have looked at houses that I wouldn't let my dog live in, houses that are way beyond hideous, houses that look good but don't tick the other boxes. Land good only for burning, land which is unsellable, land which is simply not us. Places that would suit us but not Grandma. And so it goes on. Not even mentioning the whole driving zillions of miles between places. In the heat. It all adds up to a lack of fun and a lack of time to knit.
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