Homeless

There are certain everyday rituals that I cling to – for an anxious neurotic like me they make me feel grounded and safe. They are my comforts, my constants, my luxuries and without them I am er, less comfortable, more anxious and way more unhinged.

I love closing the curtains at the end of the day. The actual act of closing out the day makes me feel cocooned and safe, it signifies the hurry and stress of the day is over and the family are about to be together at home, shoes off and relaxed. The reality is often different because of stupid things like homework and dinner and you know, reality. But somehow I still take comfort in the closing of the day.

Next on my list is a bath – a bath for me is like immersing myself in heaven except I don’t actually believe in heaven but it’s the closest analogy I can think of. I bloody love a bath – it ‘s warm, quiet and provides an ideal reading space.

The last ritual that I must perform at least three time as day is drinking tea. Drinking tea is like the portable version of having a bath except nothing like having a bath at all because the only thing the two things have in common is being warm and liquid.

As you can tell from my creature comforts – I am a home based kind of girl. I love nothing more than being at home with my people and dog around me, if the people are out I am equally happy just being at home with the dog. The only thing better than going home is actually being at home. But for the past 4 weeks I have been homeless.

Our beautiful “old” house is now in the possession of its new owners and although although I keep expecting them to call and say thank you to us for letting them buy the most beautiful home, I think my connection with that house has truly come to its end. The new house, which was going to have a small renovation but is basically being rebuilt because Mr Pencil is a frustrated architect/builder/designer/spender of huge amounts of money and kept changing all the things, was not ready for us to move into and so we came to this temporary accommodation in the home of a beautiful friend.

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This house is not my home and although I am so deeply grateful to my friend for letting me stay here while we were homeless it is someone else’s home – with someone else’s furniture and plates and cutlery and everything – except a kettle.

Today we went to check out the new house which is meant to be habitable (although not finished) by Tuesday when the person whose house we are staying in comes home, It wont be ready. It is still a building zone. And worse – the woman who owns the house we are staying in is actually coming home two days earlier than I thought she was .

Tomorrow we are homeless again. There is no way we can move into the new house until Tuesday at the very earliest – although our stuff is only coming out of storage the following Thursday. First World Problems

Pass me all the valium. And a stiff drink. For someone whose calm comes mainly from being at home these are the worst of days for me. But they too shall pass.

Thank God for my sister. Three human pencils, one fluffy pencil all descending on my sister’s family for two nights.