Tuesday, 10 June 2014

The Bump and the bookshelf

Well it's been a long week, for several reasons.

Despite the whole emigration thing, and all of the crazy stuff which that entails, I've had a lot to get done, at work and at home, and was fretting over packing up and also leaving Corny the cat behind. When I originally planned my aliya date, to coincide with the beginning of Ulpan (language immersion) and the end of the school year, it seemed like a great idea to finish work on the Friday and fly on the Sunday. I had a Barney Stinson-esque moment of ambition in 'Challenge accepted!' mode. Now, however, in a semi-comatose state, I'm wondering what the hell I was thinking.

To help matters further, after Benjy's sudden death last Sunday I've been having a lot of trouble sleeping. Don't get me wrong, I was absolutely exhausted - traumatic shocks/combined impending aliya do that to you! - but every time I closed my eyes, or let the distraction drop, I kept picturing him in various ways. As he was, snuggled up to me or running to greet me at the door at best. At worst, I could semi-clearly see the accident as it happened, at least from the information my parents would grant me.

But the most disturbing was a nightmare (even after I'd taken a sleeping pill to knock myself out and which did sweet FA) of his body going through the cremation process; his beautiful black curls burning up, alongside his eyes and ears...

But enough of depressing talk. This is a positive and exciting time for yours truly. If anything, the above has made me more resolute to go. It's the only thing driving me forward - the final realisation of a long-held dream.

In any life changing process or massive event, there is inevitably a bump somewhere along the way, where things appear to be going swimmingly and then BOOM! Something (or someone) swans along to screw it (and you) all up for no reason other than they get sick, sadistic pleasure from it. Or, you know, natural causes or bad planning.

For the past week, my flat has been on the market and I have been showing prospective tenants around. I became rather protective over my flat baby. Smiling through the tears (sometimes literally) while also sussing out the people potentially taking over your homestead is surprisingly draining. And repetitive.

Then came along the ones, at the point when I became disillusioned and wondering if I'd ever find them; the fabled people your mother hopes you'd meet, fall in love with, let your flat out to and live happily ever after with them covering the mortgage (before you decide to return home and live in the flat, of course, with nary a piece of damage and pristinely left boiler and plumbing systems).

They put a deposit down two days later and, for the first time since last Sunday, it felt like all was falling into place. I could relax a little bit and one thing had been scratched off my (slowly shrinking) list.

But then - disaster struck! Not 12 hours later, I received a call from my estate agents, informing me the couple were -

Moving to Holland.

Now, I understand the pull of living abroad (obviously!) others I wouldn't do it myself. And Holland is a wonderful country. But who gets a job offer at 8am? After they professed their undying love for my flat? After we shook hands on it and hugged?

We were all so happy, just a few short hours before. And now...they were soon to be gone.

I felt sick. I kept my phone around me in case they'd call, pleading for me to give the flat back to them, saying they'd acted in haste, and it was all a big mistake.

But, girls (and I guess some guys too?) reading this, you know how this ends.

There may be plenty more tenants in the sea, but dammit, they were pretty near perfect. We would have all had a happy life together.

But but but, as my mum advises, 'If that's the way they treat you before you're married - whoops, sorry, I mean, before they move in, what could they potentially be like after? Better to see the bad side beforehand.'

Wise woman, my mum. So, flattily single again, I wait.

As bumps go, it's fairly minor I suppose. On the plus side, here's a 'bookshelfie' before and after:

Before: A bookshelf. With books!
Yes, it doesn't look like much, especially considering I had to leave half of my books at my parents' when I moved out. But, half-packed and 3 massive boxes/rolly cases later:

Pictured: 3 massive boxes/rolly case and some books I accidentally nicked from my mum to return. Oops. 

TA DAAA! Clear...ish

...the job is done, minus some stuff I'm taking with me on aliyah.

So roll on, with 5ish weeks to go!

And, on the plus side, now that the anticipated bump is over, it should be plain sailing from here.

Please G-d. Fingers crossed!

And my flat was too good for those tenants anyway.

Cue Beyonce's 'Single ladies/'Survivor'. Yeah.

"If they liked it then we should've kept the deposit...'

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