[insert cliched title here]


I have really thought about a title but they all sound trite.
A few really busy days with packing and moving. I am in my new house. I moved yesterday.
I have only about 1/3 unpacked, (I have a floordrobe now) but it is habitable. It is a lovely house, very homely, very big.

Packing was hard. Small objects filled with significance. I spent quite a bit of time face-down on the bed, or crying. Necessarily a sad, hard time, part of the grieving process etc etc whatever. It sucked.

I had been dreading saying goodbye to my neighbours, mostly scared that I would cry in front of them, but I felt I needed to. They are an older couple, who took in our bins for us, walked the dog occasionally, and were friendly. I finally summoned up the courage yesterday. They were absolutely awesome. No “aww, it’s such a shame”. They thanked me for saying goodbye, and told me that I had been a good neighbour. The Missus said “better luck next time, this is my second marriage, there will be somebody out there for you”.

I wrote off the past couple of weeks ahead of time, knowing that they would be shit, and the aim of the game would just be to keep sane (hey, that rhymes!) Friday was a particularly difficult day, for some reason. Getting out of bed was a struggle (I was late to work) and it felt like I was walking around in treacle.

What I would have really loved, more than anything, was for somebody to coax me out of bed with a coffee. More than riches, more than status.

It was very tempting to spend what free time I had sitting on the couch, staring at the wall, wallowing.
Instead, I have made a special effort to get out and do things, no matter how little I feel like it.
On Thursday, I went to a food tasting evening in the city, with some of my new friends.
On Friday, I went to pick up my key for the new house, and went for a bite to eat with my new housemate.
On Saturday, I went out with my girlfriends for dinner, then out with one of them for a drink (to say “goodbye” to Brunswick”). I was tempted to pull out at the last minute, but I went and had a lovely time. I made a special effort to dress and groom nicely (getting ready is half the fun) and this was noted and complimented by my girlfriends.
Last night, I went to Salsa.
I was exhausted from the move and not having had enough sleep the night before, I was going to give the class a miss. But I thought NOOOOO!
I went and did 2 classes – the beginner and the more advanced one, where we learned more of the “salsa-y” bits. I even put a dress on!

 I practiced smiling and making eye contact. The former was easy, it is hard not to smile in those classes, but the eye contact wasn’t.

There was quite a bit of eye candy there (and some people who didn’t smell very nice). Some of them were good dancers.

The best dancer, however, was Jeff, 77 years old, bald, missing 2 front teeth with a wonky knee, but my word he could dance. He whipped me expertly around the floor, teaching me what to do. What a legend!

Salsa, or any other partner dancing, is mostly about the men taking the lead.

Being lead does not come naturally to me, but, after a few trips and blows to the head (learning the “haircomb” move) I learned it.

The moral: relax, don’t be bossy, and just enjoy it. A good lesson for me.

So a hard week, lots of sadness, but punctuated with moments of reprieve. Enjoyment. Unexpected surprises. Beginnings, rather than all endings.

Things that have floated my boat today/recently:

– My friend coming for “goodbye Brunswick” drinks with me – I was all prepared to go by myself

– My neighbours being cool

– Jeff the booty shaking 77 year old.

-sitting outside for lunch.

-hearing from people that I have not expected to hear from

– Chris and his cakes

Back story to this. Chris is a fellow that I went to uni with, I have known him for errr…15 years! He has not changed a bit – short, Chinese, smiley, long sleeved shirt with pens in the pockets, slacks, sensible shoes. He is now a specialist, doing a PhD in the same building I am. Anywho, when it is his turn to make morning tea, he always bakes something fancy. He bakes!. His wife, by the way, is called Christine. Cute! He always writes something about what he bakes. Today, he write about how acidification neutralises the advanced glycosylation endproducts of carbohydrates exposed to dry heat – in English, he baked a lemon cake. To commemorate spring, he bought in flowers from his garden in a porcelain vase with a poem in Chinese written on it.

What a champion.

2 responses »

  1. It must have been the week for it. I also had a terribly hard week 😦

    Good on you for doing all the social stuff! I would have wallowed 😉

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