If one could see how loaded that statement is...
This was not one of my favorite moves, and it certainly wasn't the smoothest. If one were to go back and read all of the fears I had of what would happen when we vacated our last house (with the shady landlord), one would discover that landlords shouldn't be prejudged. The recent landlord, who I (wrongly) thought "also being military would understand the stresses and paperwork involved to extricate our lives from this country" bit us in the backside BIG TIME... and is still biting. I see all of the red flags now. The ones I didn't pay attention to as I moved us while the husband was deployed.
Our new landlords (a couple), are every bit as lovely as the other was conniving. Having known them for the last 6 years, and know of the reputation they have in our village and schools, I feel safe. An additional assurance is that the people who share the other buildings associated with this farm (there's a bungalow overlooking our farmhouse and two barn conversions adjacent to it), all love Mr and Mrs C.
My kids are so joy-filled I often find myself standing at the window watching them laugh and play. The little ones have two new friends their age to ride bikes with, the two older ones-who were without internet for a week- joined in for the first time in ages. My garden has been filled with kids of all ages from the minute we moved in.
I could quite happily lie down and die in my new kitchen. There is a cupboard for everything.
The house has a great "feel" to it. It's been filled with happy families for decades (Mr. C was born and reared in this house).
So why am I depressed?
I think the stress of it all has hit and it's everything I can do to keep plodding through the unpacking stage.
Would you like a tour? Pre-my clutter added photos perhaps?
This is the room I am writing from and yes, it IS really that small.
The kitchen- before I covered the work tops with boxes
From J2's bedroom window. To the left is the bungalow, straight ahead the
barn conversion they hope to have finished by Christmas.
Our front door -which is silly really, as we park and enter from the back.
The "front" of the house.
It would make a perfect haunted house, don't you think?
See? It's all good. What was all the fuss about getting the shock that we'd have to move a few weeks back?