Which is all I have to say on a subject that is currently so far outside my field of reference that I find it hard to believe it will ever again be inside my field of reference.
Mind you, I have this reaction every year, and so far it’s proved invalid. But that really doesn’t mean anything, does it. You can cook a perfect soufflé 100 times, and on the 101st it falls flat on its face. (Not that I cook soufflés, and not that I’ve faced 100 winters, but you get the picture.)
However there is one bright star in the winter firmament (on those days I get to see the firmament through the sheeting rain.) This winter is going to be so busy it will pass in a veritable flash! Despite the fact that we are presently becalmed in an ultra-boring sea of other people’s failure to get their acts together, we know that any minute the wind will change and we will be thrust willy-nilly into a storm of frenzied activity.
As I’ve mentioned before, D1 and her husband are staying with me while they wait to settle on their new (to them) house, for which vacant possession is a prerequisite (obviously) but so far the tenants don’t seem to be getting the message. However their official deadline is tomorrow, so hopefully… (I suggested I totter round looking my ancient worst and beg them to vacate for the sake of my health, but this was vetoed on the grounds of a) bad karma, and b) tempting the gods.)
Meanwhile D2 has decided she’s OVER IT: living in a house where the roof leaks, the battle with mould is unrelenting and now the pillar supporting the front veranda has an ominous lean. So she too is moving in 2 weeks, once she’s painted the interior of the new (to her) house – part of the deal she struck to lower the rent.
See why I’ll be busy? I have been told by both daughters that I am TOO OLD to help them move, but this is nonsense influenced by my embarrassing collapse the Christmas before last, not long after implementing D3’s move. The two events were not connected and I am the house-moving queen. Get over it.
And in the midst of all this, my son’s very helpful and competent (I’m told, haven’t met him) car-dealer mechanic has found me a new car. My trip to Sydney to pick it up could fit in well with D2’s move, but must also be timed to suit D1’s move (my thoughts, not theirs.)
I have to admit that I’m quite nervous about this new (to me) car. I know thanks to my son’s mate that it’s all good, but am I? I’ve been driving the same car for 20 years. The kids say I’ll be fine, but they also say I’m too old to help them move. They can’t have it both ways.