Getting to work this morning was an absolute joy. It took just a couple of minutes to get to the company garage and then I took a stroll down Long Street to the office. Fab-ulous.
The move this weekend, however, wasn’t such a walk in the err, city.
I’ve been very, very sick for the past few weeks. Having been diagnosed (incorrectly) with all sorts of things and filled to the brim with a myriad medicines and pills, I finally (on Wednesday) found a doctor who could tell me what was wrong with me and give me medicine that actually did some good. As a result I only really managed to do most of my packing on Thursday. With stacks of help from my family.
Friday we loaded my parents’ car, my boyfriend’s car and my cousin’s car with boxes and started carting stuff through to my new place. Some of it we carried upstairs – I’m on the second floor. The rest, we left in the garage. My new, wonderful garage.
Then on Saturday I enlisted the help of one of the drivers from work, three of his friends and the most beaten-up, dilapidated bakkie ever seen. (Seriously, it was hectic seeing my fridge balanced on the back coming up the steep Tamboerskloof roads.) They collected all the big pieces of furniture from my old place and brought it to my new place, then helped by carrying everything else from the garage upstairs. It was a mammoth task. I paid them a bit more than I had budgeted for, but in the long run, it was well worth it. It just sucks that Saturday was possibly one of the hottest days we’ve had so far this summer.
My family was a massive help in starting to get stuff unpacked and put away. And then yesterday I stocked my fridge and cupboards and finished unpacking the kitchen. All that’s left are a few boxes of ornaments which I’ll work through slowly this week.
I’m so happy in my new place. There’s nothing better than sitting out on the balcony with a cool glass of water, watching the city.
Oh, with a completely goofy grin plastered across my face.