Moving house is a fabulous excuse for not cleaning.
From the minute we found out we were leaving bohemia (we had 9 days’ notice) I stopped all of it. Why bloody bother with it? We were too busy packing and we’d have to do a big clean before handing in the keys to the agent.
And now that we’ve been in suburbia for 17 days (17 glorious days), I haven’t really gotten into the cleaning yet. To be fair, we’ve been unpacking like mad. Building Ikea furniture like mad. Any housework that has been done has been to remove any unpacking/Ikea building debris. Our floor has been covered in sytrofoam, cardboard, tape, Allen keys, catnip (our desperate attempt to keep the cats happy), stuff for donation or stuff for the tip*.
But whenever I have apologised to our (many) guests about the mess, they’ve all said “oh, it’s always a mess when you first move!”. It’s awesome! See that? That’s me not feeling guilty about the mess.
But now that I’ve unloaded 60kg of cardboard (and 4 big bags of styrofoam) at the tip, the space is starting to open up here and is feeling more and more homely. I dare say housework is on the cards v soon. I’m just waiting for inspiration to strike.
* Have you ever been to your local tip? I haven’t been since I was a little kid (and when I visited Nat’s local tip a few years back). It stinks at the tip but it is SO theraputic! The car this morning was literally overflowing with crap and with my sneakers (like the local RSL, the tip has a strict no-thongs policy) on I trekked out to the tip where I turfed the whole 60kg into compactors.
Maybe I’ll start the housework tomorrow :)