There’s a reason why they say moving is one of the most stressful experiences in life. Add to it being international, it’s totally party time. We are at the tail end of moving from Dubai, UAE to London, UK with a 2 month layover in Spain.
If you know me, you know there is something called “Danielle Time”. My timeline is (typically) faster than others and I get frustrated when others don’t comply. If you want proof, ask my husband.
Partner that with the fact that this move is kicking my ass. 2+ months of being in transition and now I’m finally here - ready to rock and roll!
Here we are ... Day 3. I’ve bought a car, had our shit delivered from Dubai, signed a contract for a new gig (more on that later), terrorized the property manager to fix shit, set various appointments for more admin/burocratic processes, bought beds, bought a dryer and millions of other random things one needs to set up a house.
Today I spent 3 hours trying to get a cup of coffee. The coffee maker that came with the house is broken. I had to spend 45 mins figuring that out, which was followed by a trip to Tesco to buy a new one. I literally had an adult temper tantrum. My 7 year old has spent the day repeating “I just want a cup of coffee!” mimicking my distressed tone... just to show me they really are a mirror of what an asshole one can be.
I had planned to unpack and organize the kitchen today but realized I don’t have room for all the boxes and packing materials so started calling removal companies. Only one could do it - all others were in 1 week! The catch, it was to be picked up today by 3:30, so I had only 3 hours to unpack over 40 boxes. #holycrap
Challenge accepted. With my two able-bodied daughters, we literally dumped every box out in its respective room. We finished at 3:28 pm. How’s that for success? Now we have rooms so full one cannot get to the bed, etc.