THEY say moving house is up there with death and divorce on the stress scale.
So, when we decided to move (in my case return) to Richards Bay, I told my No 1 that whatever else he had a mind to do, dying and setting divorce proceedings into motion, were not option for the next six months at least.
And I’m quite glad I did because packing box after box and deciding what to throw out can lead to some interesting and passionately defensive debates.
I read. Avidly. So I can’t deny, rather large number of boxes are filled with books. And No 1’s long and hearty lecture regarding the convenience of a Kindle and such-like, and how books will eventually disappear in the real world, but not to fear, will materialise in cyber space. Therefore, we can chuck out most the books. How rude! This does not impress. I am not a space cadet and I am tactile. I like to hold my books, and turn the pages by hand. I do not want to press yet another button. I like to have piles of books around me, not neat little black electronic devices.
My counter-move was pointing out the number of boxes filled with fish tank paraphernalia, not to mention the tank itself, a huge monstrosity of glass and wood, plus its wells (smaller tanks which form part of the filter system, I think). The counter-move was dismissed summarily. The fish tank is a live, aesthetically appealing , centre-piece that adds value and appeal to the home, said No 1 with great enthusiasm.
And so it went.
“You must tell your pets about the move and explain to them what is happening,” said a friend who I did not realise was going mad. But just in case, and to avid the cost of future pet therapy expenses, I told them. The Great Dane simply eyed the biscuit in my hand oozed gob all over it as he tried to pry it out. The Persian cat raised its eyes to the heavens in the same desultory way my 13-year-old does when she thinks she knows everything, and I, sadly, do not. The ginger cat just leapt past and caught a grasshopper.
The parrot squawked and almost fell off his perch in hysterical laughter. The parrot, I fear is following the mad friend’s path to nether world.
It’s a long story, but the stuff is in storage and the family is in temporary accommodation. It’s a new chapter (hard copy please note) and verse for us. The stress levels have temporarily subsided, but are about to rise again at the high cost of equipping the teen for school.
