The need for good artwork

Just a random thought I had this morning. I need some good, cheap (remember, one income thing happening at the moment) artwork to put into the two alcoves that we have up the hallway. But I’m stumped as to what kind of artwork I want to put in there.
Do I go with canvas prints, posters, small prints in frames, classic, contemporary, funky? This is going to drive me insane.

The good, the bad and the ugly

This is what my life is boiling down to at the moment – a list – a list of good things, bad things and, well, the ugly things. So here goes:

The good:

  • The house is nearly sorted
  • Seeing baby chickens breaking out of their shells
  • Being in a gorgeous coastal town
  • Celebrating three wonderful (yet sometimes turbulent) years with Mr Man today
  • Being able to have lunch with Mr Man on the foreshore, watching the waves come in and watching people fishing from the jetty

The bad:

  • I’m still unemployed
  • The house isn’t completely unpacked and sorted
  • I have only a limited amount of money in the bank and for the first time in my adult life am going to have to rely on someone else to give me money
  • The neighbour’s kid who keeps kicking his football onto the wall of our house, and up on the roof

The ugly:

  • All the empty boxes lying around in the tiny little yard that is our backyard
  • The seemingly constant mess

The list is longer, but I’m so bloody tired that right now I just can’t think straight, let alone make lists of my life. No, the list that I’m concentrating on at the moment is the list of things that I have to do tomorrow. Top of that list?

Find a bloody job.

This is where you should learn to cull

Yep, enough said in the title really. When moving house, you should definitely cull “stuff”, but more importantly, you should cull your “stuff” before you move, not after you move.

I say this, because I now have to go through my study, and there are folders upon folders of information and “stuff” that I have to cull. And I still have more house to unpack, but I’m spending so much time just unpacking the study I feel as if I’m getting no-where.

Right now, I need to scream… arrggghhhhhhhh

When it becomes a struggle to find a spice rack

Today was yet another busy day of unpacking and sorting things out. I am pleased to announce that we now have a kitchen that looks like a kitchen and acts like a kitchen, a living room that has a working TV, DVD and PlayStation (Mr Man has yet to set the Wii up – what a shame, I can’t use the Wii Fit and “exercise”) and a dining room that we could actually eat in, should we ever actually get around to eating like civilized humans at a dining table (the lounge is so much more cosy – bad form, I realise this).

So while I was unpacking the many, many boxes and bags of food that made the journey to Port Lincoln with us and putting them into the pantry, I realised that I had many more jars of spices than I thought I had. Back in our old house we had a tiny little cupboard above the rangehood, which was just deep enough to put my jars of spices in. So when they were in the cupboard there didn’t seem to be that many of them, and they all had a place. Unfortunately, the cupboards in this house are different. All very deep, all very high, and they all seem to be a little hard to get into, so I lost my spice cupboard, which means they all had to be moved into the general pantry.

That was where I started running into trouble. Have you ever tried to stack jar upon jar upon jar of spices on top of each other?


Don’t. They fall.

Easy answer to this dilemma would be to go and buy a spice rack yes?

Well. Port Lincoln don’t have that many homeware stores. There is a House and Kitchen store, which I admit I had been dying to get into. So, there was my exucse. I got Mr Man to take me down there (because, I am still a little lost and get “misplaced” when I drive around – I need a NavMan, I really do) and in we go to House and Kitchen, with me thinking, cool, spice rack here we come. I even knew exactly what I wanted. Did they have it? NO. I could have cried. So, we started a hunt around town at various different shops trying to find a bloody spice rack. After over an hour of shop hunting and about 5 different stores, we finally found a spice rack at a tiny little homewares store, which I do believe, is going to become a favourite shop of mine in the future (once I have a job again). I believe at one point, in K-Mart, I stopped, told Mr Man I wanted to go back home to Adelaide. I think a part of me was partly serious.

So that’s what my life has been like up till now. Unpacking, driving around town, getting misplaced and spending hours trying to find spice racks. The homesickness for Adelaide, my family and my friends hasn’t set in yet, but Mr Man hasn’t started work yet, so he’s been around me full time. I’m a little worried about how I’m going to cope next week when he starts working and it’s just me and Cat at home, in a strange town, with – strangers.

I believe I might have to take a few more trips down to the beach to eat my lunch. As we did today:

Snapper Rock

Snapper Rock

Or maybe I could go around the corner from home to Billy Lights Point and take in another glorious sunset?

Billy Lights Point

So, while it might be hard for me to find a spice rack here in Port Lincoln, you can see that I’m not going to struggle to find some glorious places to enjoy a few peaceful moments.

Here we are: We are here!

I’m really sorry for the lack of updates over the last couple of weeks. I didn’t realise quite how hectic life was going to get in the lead up to the move. I’ve moved house before, but it’s always been within about 20 minutes of where I was currently living. You can’t do that kind of move when you are moving 7 hours away, everything has to be packed, labelled, and double checked before you place it all on that truck. There is no going back and forth, moving your belongings, and doing a final cleanup.

Oh and note to self… Next time, don’t organise to have the power cut on the actual day of your final inspection. Organise it for the day after. Because that way, when they decide to cut the power at 8.45am, you don’t sit there wondering how the hell you’re going to vacuum the house in readiness for that final inspection.

So there is definitely a lot more to tell you all. The pro’s and con’s of living here, I’ve found a few of both. And I also have a few photos to share. But for now, I must go back to the unpacking and try to get the house a little more organised.

Let the moving begin!

Last night Mr Man and I finished up the last of the packing (well I say we finished it up, but really, he had to finish it up himself this morning), having left the kitchen till last. While scrounging around in the kitchen, finding old glasses to box up and donate to charity, I found a bottle of vodka, with a fair amount left in there. Enough anyway for me to put into a mug with some coke (yes, a mug, someone decided it would be a grand idea to pack all the glasses up and leave nothing out – yes that someone would be me) and guzzle it down quickly.

You know what I discovered?

Drinking a guzzle-full of vodka and then packing, is quite fun (apparently I’m a cheap drunk). It certainly makes the packing go quicker, and the dancing around the kitchen just adds entertainment value. Well, I was entertained anyway, and I think Cat was entertained. Mr Man just stood there shaking his head at me, but oh well. 

The bad thing I discovered?

Guzzling back the vodka actually makes me quite tired. Tired enough that I left a box half packed with pantry items, looked at Mr Man and told him the rest was up to him, “I am going to bed, because some miserable bastard (that’d be Mr Man) is making me go to work tomorrow”. Unfair, true, it’s not really him that’s making me go to work, but when guzzle-full of vodka, fairness goes right out the window. 

So the truck arrived this morning at about 6.30am, and I’m hoping that when I get home tonight everything will be packed up. I’m not liking my chances though. Because I hate packing, you can almost be guaranteed that it will be there for me when I get home. But WOO, the move officially happens for all the furniture and household goods tomorrow, and next Tuesday morning, I will be following, and there will start the adventures that Port Lincoln is sure to bring.

Job update: Still don’t have one *sigh* – I am officially on my way to becoming a Sandologist!

Cleaning, lots of cleaning

The thing I hate the most about moving house?

The seemingly endless cleaning that you seem to have to do. I always thought my house was clean, why is it I can now find dirt, dust and disorder (okay the disorder is all the bloody boxes piled up everywhere…) everywhere I turn. My poor hands look like they belong to 95 year old, they’re that dry and wrinkled from all the detergents I’ve been using all day. I can not wait to be all moved and unpacked.

T minus 14

So with only two weeks to go until we make the official move, and only one week until the furniture and all the household goods get moved, you would think that perhaps I’d be spending a little more time on my sorting and packing and the cleaning up of the house wouldn’t you?

Am I?

Well. In a word. No.

At the moment, I’m stressing majorly over the work situation. Mr Man has a job (well… duh… otherwise we wouldn’t be making this move), and thankfully (yet very sadly at the same time) Little Miss Princess doesn’t live with us on a permanent basis, but the fact that I don’t have a job has me a little worried. I’m a worrier, it’s what I do best, and at the moment I am champion queen of worrying.

My employer is quite a large one, and it comes with certain perks – such as being able to take 12 months leave without pay, so that I can, if I have to, find work outside of the company, but at the same time, I can find work and transfer to another department. Well, that’s the normal situation. Enter a new managing director, who apparently, doesn’t really approve of the whole 12 months leave without pay situation and enter into the equation my application for these 12 months to get myself sorted in a new town and find myself work. Then add in my complete and utter horror and devastation to get a letter denying my request. Admittedly, I’ve been granted three months leave, but Port Lincoln isn’t the hugest town and there aren’t quite that many opportunities that come up in the area that I’m in. Finding work in those three months could be hard and essentially this will require me to have to choose between my family and my career.

After 13 years, I feel as if I’ve been gobbled up, chewed up and spat out without any by-your-leave. So now my conundrum. Do I fight for more leave? Do I take my three months and hope to high hell that I can find a position with this company in three months, or do I just say, screw you all, thanks for making my last couple of weeks with the company sucky and just leave.

What I haven’t mentioned that makes this decision that little bit harder – with this company I get 18 weeks of paid maternity leave. Mr Man and I are hoping to start a family in the near(ish) future and that’s one perk I really, really don’t want to give up.

Oh what to do, what to do?

For now though, I suppose I should get back to the sorting and packing…

Welcome to Living on the Flipside

My name is Louise* and I’m a 35 year old city girl. I grew up in Adelaide, South Australia, and barring a couple of years living in Denmark as a baby (which I don’t remember, so it really doesn’t count) I have lived within 25 minutes of the suburb I was born in. I have worked for the same employer for the last 13 years, know my job very well, and most of the time I like it, if not love it. So what can I say? I’ve been in my comfort zone for quite some time now and quite content to stay there.

Enter Mr Man and his gorgeous girl “The Princess”, who blew into my world and made me fall madly in love with them three years ago. Mr Man was a country boy, born in the city, raised in the city (to country bred parents), but moved to the country when he was young, fell in love with it, and stayed there until circumstances made him move back to the city. Where we met.  We dated, we had fun, we moved in together and set up home and talked about that “one day” that we would move back to the small country town. One day. In the future. The distant future.

Except that distant future came around a lot sooner than planned. Enter Mr Man’s former employer and his job offer of a lifetime. Come back to Port Lincoln. So after two years of saying, we should move there, we should move there, here was our chance. So without a lot of hesitation (lots of quiet hesitation on my part I can say), we said yes, and there started our plans to move seven hours away from everything I have always known and loved.

I’m excited. I’m nervous. I’m scared. I’m dreading it. I’m looking forward to it. I’m a barrel of emotions right now.

One of the things that has me the most worried is that I have no job to go to. So for the first time in my adult life I’m going to be unemployed. I’m trying to think of it as a vacation, it’s not really working. So I was complaining to a friend, saying I didn’t know what I was going to do with my time until I found a job to go to, when she suggested that perhaps I should keep a blog of my experience with moving, both the move in general and moving to the country, and being unemployed.

So welcome to Living on the Flipside. Because that’s how I’m feeling right now. Enjoy your stay, I’m hoping I’m going to enjoy my move :)

*All names edited to protect the innocent (or guilty).