I have lived in this furnished flat on the northern borders of Kirribilli for 4 years and that is longer than I have ever lived anywhere, including during my childhood. But I am finally moving out on Wednesday and I really cannot wait.
I will not miss the bed that gives me backache because of a mattress which appears to be made of lumpy soup and essence of sag.
I will not miss the tap that drips incessantly in the kitchen sink.
I will not miss the lack of power outlets, nor the damned inconvenient siting of the few there are.
I will not miss the palm tree full of ravening possums and squawking parakeets that grows beside my balcony and which drops heavy, spike-edged branches onto it in every strong wind.
I will not miss the fact that, no matter what I do, the skirting boards never look quite clean because they are old and uneven and ingrained with other people’s dirt.
However, despite all that and more, living here has been good for me both physically and psychologically. This was the base, the home, from which I found the strength and confidence finally to shrug off the shadow of depression. I am in better shape now, again, both physically and psychologically, than at any time since my early twenties and living here – not just in this particular flat but in Sydney in general – aided that process by giving me a safe, quiet, undisturbed space with plenty of light and sunshine in which to regroup, rethink and relearn.
So, on Wednesday I’m moving to a gorgeous and recently refurbished apartment on the other side of Kirribilli – right down on the harbour with views across the water to the Opera House, in fact – which Ed and I are sickeningly referring to as our love nest since it will be our first home together. And it is unfurnished so I’m off to Ikea to buy a nice firm mattress that doesn’t feel as though it was made by stuffing a giant haggis with porridge and old socks.
But first, I have to pack up all my books, clothes and thingummywhatsits this weekend, ready for Wednesday. I may need chocolate to sustain me. Somewhat fortuitously, I have a supply in stock 
“made by stuffing a giant haggis with porridge and old socks”
snort
thpffft
Tonight will be my last night on said haggis. Hurrah.
Be careful. Don’t get too comfortable. Be prepared to flee on a moment’s notice if an asteroid is about to crash into the earth, say. On the other hand, stay calm, and don’t panic. Remember the old saying,
“When in fear or in doubt, run in circles, scream and shout.”
I am remaining calm and making innumerable lists.
However, if all fails tomorrow, I shall run around in circles and blame you.
I can’t sleep on second-hand mattresses. They give me the heebie-jeebies.
I’ll never do it again. I have promised myself.
Ohhh ,the wonderfulness of nesting together and buying lovely new stuff to facilitate it!!
I’d also call it the love nest, if I were you! View across the harbour, new mattress – what else is it for if not love?! PS haggis stuffing = great picture. I can almost see the previous occupant of your small flat grinding dirt into the baseboards and hollowing out inopportune mattress areas at dead of night, giggling maniacally…
Ah well, we’re buying lovely but cheap and basic stuff as we’re only going to be here for 6 months… And have yet to decide on where we’ll settle. But gosh, yes, nesting is fun!
I move tomorrow and I just can’t wait for it all to be done. The removalists arrive at 8am, then the Ikea delivery is due at between 10am-1pm.
Then it will just be a question of getting the darn stuff put together because of course it’s all flat-packed. I shall be begging the assistance of friends and offering Pimms and pizza as an incentive
“Ed.” It’s nice that we now know his name (I’m probably behind a few posts.
Yes, he is my Gorgeous Ed.
I’ll bet you won’t miss the opossum on the balcony either.