It's been a while since my last post, to say the least. 3 years on and I have a new baby, 3 kids in total now. Break out the champagne/baby wipes.
And after 9 years in a 1 bedroom apartment in one of the most expensive cities in the world, I now have to move. Which means that my rent will increase considerably.
Ahhhh!!
*bites fingers
*tries to pretend this isn't happening.
So I'm making lists upon lists..... upon lists.
Lists of what to donate or sell. Lists of items that are essential vs items that I definitely will not use. I may need to put things into storage in my parents' garage for a time, so suddenly what I move needs to be worthy of prime real estate. If I haven't used it in the past two years (or more, in some cases), then what in the world is it doing in my kitchen?
I recently got rid of my juicer, for example.
Oh, you sold it? you ask.
No.
Ok then, so you gave it away?
No. No, I had to THROW IT IN THE BIN LIKE THE INFESTED GARBAGE IT WAS.
*Breathe.
For some time my juicer parts had sat prettily in the third drawer in the kitchen, taking up valuable space but also seeming valuable. That juicer cost me $175, I would often hear my brain say. The base of the juicer though, the meat of it, you could say ironically, sat on the floor behind the kitchen door. Too big to fit in the cupboards, too big to sit behind the kitchen door too, really, but that was a place I kept it, under spare plastic bags and supermarket dreams. Amongst dreams of someday becoming healthy enough to use it all the time. And in hopes that I could be bothered cleaning it for a whole ten minutes and dealing with its huge parts scattered to dry on the kitchen bench because they just won't fit in the dish drainer (it was compact but apart it was huge).
So, to cut it short, i realised that roaches had been living in the underparts of the motor/base of the juicer. Like, lots of them. So many, in fact, that after banging the base on the floor a good ten times, roach poo was still quite happily and freely falling from it. Gah. I left it on the floor by the outside door for a good few days, then, realising that there wasn't a part if me that could deal with placing something roach or even once-roach infested onto my kitchen bench ever in my life, no matter how sure i was that there was no more poo left, it had to go. Into the bin where it sadly (and grossly) belonged.
So that is one less thing to move. But each time I place something into the bin my somewhat green brain says "off to the landfill.." and I cringe and feel guilty. Where does all our stuff go? We either have too much in our houses or we just keep piling it up in the dirt in the middle of yonder. I have a car boot full of bags to be donated. It has been full a few weeks but i keep forgetting to dump it. Every time i go near the charity bins here they are so dramatically full (bags literally spilling out of them and many items placed on the ground around them) that it depresses me to think that even we have too much charity to go around, meaning more stuff in our houses and then more stuff chucked in the normal bins.
But, the lists. I am enjoying the lists.
Lists of forms needed to be filled out for baby's life to officially (on paper, anyway) begin. Lists of processes to go through to get her passports and photos and identification. Lists of agencies to call regarding her tiny baby life. And now lists including "Find new place to live. Cry."
I don't want to move, but I am happy to have been forced into a new direction, who knows what will happen in the next year?
I will keep you updated, I suppose. I hope to! Maybe I will read this in 3 more years and realise my failure.
Best,
Sarah xx
