The soup I get from Joel’s just isn’t the same. That’s the truly annoying thing about moving house: the soup, and the lack of quality.
Actually, no, the worst thing about moving house is that you lose connections and have to find a bunch of new stuff. You spend so long getting to know your favourite supermarket, and the best coffee shop around, and where to buy ripe kumquats, and then it’s all gone in an instant. And it’s not even an instant! It’s weeks and weeks of logistical nightmare, where you have to go into the conveyancing office in Clifton Hill, which is a whole twenty minute drive from your (my) house, and then it’s just meetings, gatherings, soirees about housing things, all the time, until it’s all you can think about. I lay in bed last night, thinking about conveyancing. Then I realised I was having an episode of sleep paralysis, probably due to the stress, and I dreamed that my solicitor was sitting next to my bed and reading out every single word of our housing agreement, and I couldn’t do anything to stop him. I got nothing against all that stuff, but at that point, when you’re trying to sleep, it’s not fun. The daily activities are just invading my dreams, now, I guess. Fun times for me.
And then you have to think about all those fun little logistics, like packing things into boxes, having your mail redirected and hunting around for a dumpling place that does the crispy pork just how you like it, and preferably doesn’t stock that one brand of vinegar that tastes like the inside of a petrol can. In the future, moving home will be as simple as pushing a button and your home just moving itself via jet boosters or something. I mean, if we didn’t have the corresponding conveyancers close to Bentleigh, I might just curl up in a ball and cry for a bit. Might make me feel better, but it’s not shifting any of these boxes.