The great Dr. B pointed out a few weeks ago that moving house was a great way to dis-organise, and then re-organise your life, doing a little sorting, fixer-upping and repackaging in the process.
He was not wrong.
The last two weeks have been a complete mess. Nothing was in its place, be it in my living room or in that slightly pokier place also know as my brain. And I can tell you, living in a state of dissaray like that is exhausting.
But now, little pieces of my life are coming back together, and I find myself appreciating them in a new, simpler way (if I'm sounding like Laura Bloody Ingalls I apologise).
First: The internet, and associated television access. Look! Email! News! Evidence of the outside world! (and the odd realization that I didn't actually miss facebook...)
Second: A nice, comfortable, uncluttered room to sit in. Peaceful walls painted by yours truly (and Mommy Res). Furniture that isn't covered in cardboard boxes or DIY materials or Pisa towers of books. Sunlight streaming in through windows that are both framed in curtains instead of ladders.
Third: Joining the gym. So I can start feeling guilty again about not going.
Fourth: Having nothing more strenuous to do over the next couple days than planning a date. And enjoying dating again just because it's fun, and not because I'm in a rush to meet "The One" before my eggs shrivel up like yesterday's Benedicts. OK, so moving didn't actually make me younger, but I do feel like it's hiked me up a notch on the zen-ladder. I mean, I have grey walls. How fabulously zen is that?!
And this great wave of chilling-out-itude is bound to get me back into the swing of things book-wise. For sure.
In the meantime, I'm off to London!