My last post here was July. /me sighs. It’s not that we haven’t been doing things that are worthy of writing about — things I might want to remember later, to read and reminisce, to recall what it was like to be “young and free” (read: almost 40 and a parent) in my (hopefully short-lived¹) dotage. But, somehow, it has become very difficult to find the time/space to actually order my thoughts in to anything like a coherent narrative, let alone record them.
Today we spent over 20 minutes in traffic to go the 1 kilometre from home to preschool — it’s time to start looking for a house on the other side of Parramatta Road again. There is, of course, no urgency — we’re in a lease after all — but we’ve both agreed we should keep an eye out for a better property in a more accessible location i.e. Annandale or Leichhardt at this point.
We’re all recovering from a stomach bug this week. You may have already seen the photo: Jules bumped his head on Saturday, playing with a plastic crate we’d bought to allow us to put some of his older toys into storage ahead of his birthday. It wasn’t too bad, although it came up in a nasty bruise very quickly, and it was on top of two other head-bumps he’d given himself at preschool in the preceding week.
Another late night for me. My project at work is pretty demanding, with very tight deadlines and quite a bit to do in each sprint. I’m trying to keep on top of it, but it does mean I’ve done a bit more “out of hours work” than I’d like.
I still feel pretty positive — about work, life, kids, fun, motorcycles, health — so something is working for me. A low carb diet!
More house-hunting today — I think we saw five places today (might’ve been more, as for a couple of them I stayed in the car with a sleeping Jules and let Dee scope it out on her own). Of those, we’ve applied for just one, a tiny place (really), but probably not any smaller than our current house, and nicer: 3BRs all on a single level, on-street parking and close enough to the city that we can still ride in.
Finding a new house is proving difficult.
We applied for a place on View Street, just a couple of blocks from our current place. Nice little three-bedroom, with a big enough yard, nice kitchen, good little deck outside — in short, perfect for our little clan. But by now you know where this is heading: we didn’t get it.
Gutted, as well as baffled: we offered more than the asking price, were available to move in immediately (like: take our money, give us the keys) and even suggested we would do a long-lease (up to 24 months, by which time I’m really hoping we can start looking to buy our own).
It’s 2016, and I’m dusting off the ‘blog again.
Sure, I might not be able to keep up with writing here, but I’ve got to try — it’s something I actually kind of enjoy, after all, and being able to go back and revisit my thoughts from a year ago (or ten!) is illuminating in the least.
This is a year for enjoyment, I think: I’ve been giving too much focus, if not time (what parent has time, after all), to my work, and feeling guilty at both ends when I don’t give enough to EITHER my projects or my family — let alone carving out that tiny bit of personal space required to recharge, reflect, write, meditate, be alone, be myself. And while I have given up the late nights and energy drinks, mostly, I’m still finding it hard to say “it can wait until Monday” … and to be happy with that decision.
Ah, beautiful, delicate irony. I becomes apparent that I spoke too soon when I confessed to feeling satisfied for the first time in years — within hours of my last post, our landlords called to tell us they’re selling our home.