Creative Writing, Venue

The Miscellaneous Mayhem of Moving House

Boxes. Cardboard ones. Plastic ones. All around you. Your bedroom becomes a breeding ground of bubble wrap and clothes to pack. Suitcases pile up in the corner, waiting to be filled at the last minute. 

The next part, of course, is the travelling. Trying to fit everything in the car, as well as three people. Trying to jigsaw everything together. Creating that small space so your dad can see the cars behind you. Attempting to keep everything to one side of the back seat so you’re not cramped in a miniscule corner for seven hours on end. 

There’s the going back and forth between your old flat and your new one. Bearing the jokes of “Wow, we’re going to need a full moving truck for everything next year!”, and trying not to panic about finding a space for everything. You’re sentimental, so everything has its purpose. Everything makes your new space feel that little bit more like home.

Moving up and down stairs. Carrying boxes that threaten to trip you up. Your legs shaking with the stress, and your arms going numb. The sweat starts to glisten on your forehead, your lungs reach bursting point,and then you finally get five minutes, until you need to return to your old flat and get the last three boxes. 

Boxes. Carrier bags. Suitcases. Bubble wrap. Unpacked items strewn on the floor, on the bed, on the desk, anywhere there’s space. 

Where to begin? 

Where to put everything?

You can’t move for things that need to find their new homes. But you can’t think of where to put it all. You can’t even sit because there’s no space. 

Where to begin? 

The panic sets in.

The emotions begin to rise.

All of this is made worse when you’re standing, ankle deep in bubble wrap and torn newspapers, and your parents say they need to leave. It’s time for them to travel back to your home city, to begin that seven-hour long car ride before it gets too late. 

You say your goodbyes, tears starting to rise. Because although it’s only two months until you see them again, you’ve been through a lot this year, and it’s hard leaving the comfort of your parents to move into an unfamiliar place. 

But it’s okay. 

You can breathe.

Just breathe.

Don’t think about everything at once.

Start small.

Start with stationary. It’s safe. You know where that needs to go – next to your desk. In the drawers, closest to where you’ll be working. So you start there, in that small corner. And you begin to work clockwise. Focussing on small sections of the room at once. It’s easier. You put on your music. Have a coffee.

And you breathe.

And then, half of it is done.

All the practical stuff is away. All your clothes are hung up, your books are neatly on the shelf. 

You’re unpacked.

You move to the living room and you do the same.

Then to the kitchen, where the process is repeated,making sure to grab a second cup of coffee.

Then to the bathroom. A small job, but an important one nonetheless.

And you breathe.

Now for the fun part.

The decorating.

You string up your fairy lights, and your photographs. You fill your corkboard, and you place your trinkets on your desk. You hang your tapestries, and place your pillows.

And you breathe.

You take in your new home for the year.

All the work you’ve done today. 

The stress of moving is complete.

You’re finished.

You’re alone.

And you breathe.

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About Author

Louise Collins

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May 2022
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