On the move, part three

I need a high level of order in my living environment. This is a challenge at the best of times, as even living with just one other person does not always allow me the control over my personal space that I would like to have. And, while he might disagree, the truth is that my partner does not seem to notice the absence of orderliness in his surroundings to the same extent that I do. In fact, it could probably be said that he contributes to a certain level of the dis-orderliness that causes me so much stress.

I have to admit that I enjoyed the mandatory tidiness during the weeks our house was listed. However, those days are long gone. That’s a good thing, of course – much as I liked being in a state of perpetual tidiness, there isn’t much else about living in a house that’s for sale that is pleasant.

Now, we are officially in pre-move mode, with all the chaos that entails. Our official downsizing program ended a few days ago. My partner has done the lion’s share of this work, emptying his workshop and most of the basement over the past several weeks. He’s made many trips to our now bursting-at-the-seams storage unit, Habitat for Humanity and the dump. We’ve given last-chance offers to our kids to take away items that we no longer need or have room for; few of which were taken up, I’m sorry to say.

We’ve had an ongoing array of free stuff at the end of our driveway, almost all of which has been picked up. A new across-the-street neighbour took our canning jars and returned a couple of days later to give us some of her freshly made raspberry jam in one of them. A young couple on their way home from church spotted our charcoal barbecue and were back in less than an hour with a pick-up truck to take it away. Our empty booze bottles were carried off by someone who looked as though he could really use the deposit refund.

And, a few days ago, we called Just Junk to collect what remained – the stuff that was, really and truly, just junk. We do have half a dozen concrete blocks that are free to anyone who wants to hoist them into the back of their car . . . .

Moving for the elderly

Not being as young as we were the last time we moved — when we hired our kids and some of their friends, rented a couple of trucks, bought beer and pizza and did all our own packing – we’re using professional movers this time. We’ve gone all out, hiring them to do the packing up as well as the moving.

Nonetheless, there’s pre-packing work that only we can do, and that means the house is in quite a state of disarray. I’ve gone through everything in my office and packed anything I don’t need to use for the next few weeks. We’ve packed the contents of cabinets that aren’t making the move with us. I’ve begun to tackle the pantry. We’re eating our way through food in the upright freezer. Moving boxes, full and empty, litter the house.

Our cat is perhaps as perturbed by the lack of order in the house as I am. We’ve kept all her favourite perches and sleeping spots more or less undisturbed but, like most cats, she notices every little change and lets us know about her displeasure. A couple of weeks ago, my partner steam cleaned all the rugs and we have them rolled up, ready to be moved. Kitty is more than indignant, as she enjoys nothing more than rolling around on a rug with her catnip-filled sock. It’s just not the same on a wood floor, as she communicates to us regularly.

Administrivia

While my partner has taken on most of the literal heavy lifting, I have the responsibility of sorting out all the administrative details of the move, which entails its own version of heavy lifting. I have a notebook full of lists that is never far from hand.

Last week, I tackled the Big Three: phone and internet service, utilities and mail. I can report that I was successful on all fronts, although not without some effort. I was shocked at the cost of having our mail forwarded: almost $100 plus HST for 12 months. However, the process was painless and quick, as it was to sort out utilities services, which I did entirely online.

Bell, as should have been no surprise, was neither. I spent more than an hour in the Bell store, thinking it would be easier to do this face to face than online or even on the telephone. I suspect I was right; perhaps if I had tried to do this over the phone I would still be on hold. The first few steps went smoothly, if slowly, but then we hit a wall when Bell insisted I had a piece of their hardware that I do not have. I’ll spare you the details other than to say I heard the words I had promised myself not to utter come out of my mouth to the impossibly young service rep – “I just want you to know that I am a 70-year-old woman and have been a Bell customer, without interruption, for more than 50 years” – before I caved and agreed to pay Bell $199 because I can’t return the hardware that I did not have. It was the only way Bell will provide me with that very hardware for our new place.

We’ve kept enough outdoor furniture so we can enjoy the garden while we are still here. We’ll probably try to fit in a couple more dinners with friends and family, but they will likely be a bit slapdash, given the steadily emptying freezer and pantry shelves. We’ll take a couple of last walks around our neighbourhood.

And then, Kitty will head off to her other home before the serious packing starts and until after most of the unpacking has happened at the other end, and we’ll pack up and move into a hotel for a few days over the worst of it.

If everything goes well, order should be created in our new living space by mid-October, Kitty will have found new favourite perches and we’ll be familiarizing ourselves with our new neighbourhood.