Why I think moving sucks

I blog a lot about the present, but come with me on a quick delve into life before we left Sydney.

Most days of my Sydney life, I woke up at 6am. That’s on the days I didn’t wake up at 5am to get some work done before I left for… work…

By 7am, I was at the bus stop, waiting for the 7:06am bus, which would get me into work by 7:50am. Once there, I would power-work until 8:45am, which was when other people arrived and I had my daily conference call with the other states to examine the news.

At 6:45pm I would leave work to get the 6:55pm bus, getting home around 7:45pm.

Don’t get me wrong – I actually really liked my job. I just hated the fact that, when I moved into my place, I was working in a totally different job in a totally different part of the city. My house was a 15 minute commute from that job, but a minimum one hour commute from the last job I had in Sydney.

I gave up my job two weeks before we moved in order to pack us up and ship us out. Mr Moi was working up to the last minute… or so we hoped.

I’ve previously alluded to how much crap I chucked out when we left Sydney. Part of our chucking out strategy involved putting our rubbish into our neighbour’s bin.

We did this for about six weeks before we moved. Not only that, but he helped us clean up our yard, trim back the hedges and basically keep our place under control when we were too preoccupied to do otherwise.

To thank him, we bought him a carton of beer. Two weeks before we moved (two days after I’d finished up work), we took it round to his place.

After living in our place for two years, we’d never actually been around to his place. He was a nice guy, but not how you’d expect. He was about 60 years old, with long grey hair and a long ponytail, and in his yard was the most amazing cactus garden I had ever seen (remember, cactus isn’t all that common en masse in Australia).

So we took him around this carton of beer to say thanks, and in typical Aussie fashion, he invited Mr Moi and I to stay on and share some beers. Knowing we had to go out for a farewell dinner later that afternoon, Mr Moi took it easy on the beers, while I went rather… hard.

After about four beers (in… maybe… 90 minutes), Mr Moi said it was time to go. And it probably was – from where we were sitting on our neighbour’s verandah, we could see it’d gotten very dark. And I was a little tipsy…

Mr Moi led the descent from the verandah, followed by Neighbour, followed by moi. They walked across his driveway, and I followed, traipsing a little as one does when they’re a little… happy.

What I didn’t see in the dark was an exposed drain, about 10 centimetres across. And that explains why I was so surprised when my foot got caught in the exposed drain. And why I didn’t really understand what was going on when I fell on the ground, first on my knees, then my wrist, and then my head.

All that really registered what that I couldn’t hear anything.

I stumbled to my feet rather unsteadily, and both Mr Moi and Neighbour were talking to me. I could see their mouths moving. Too bad I had no hearing, not even a high-pitched buzz.

I stood up. “I’m fine, I’m fine. I just can’t hear anything. Mr Moi? I can’t HEAR anything. What are you saying? I can’t HEAR you.” Saying this, I stumbled up the inclined driveway. Halfway up, I looked at Mr Moi, and I looked at Neighbour. I thought they were overreacting. And as I looked at them, I tried to move my feet and body to propel me up the incline.

Instead, my body froze and I fell backwards down the hill. I remember this as though I was watching myself in slow motion.

The good news is, my head hit Mr Moi’s shin, not the concrete. The other good news is that, after I woke from my faint, I could hear again.

To cut a long story a little bit shorter, we went to the hospital where x-rays determined that I hadn’t broken my wrist or my arm. However, it was badly sprained, very swollen around the joints, and I was on some heavy duty painkillers. (I actually couldn’t straighten my arm until a month later).

The other bad news was that I couldn’t pack a box or move a piece of furniture to save my life. Heck, I couldn’t even bring a fork to my mouth to eat. I certainly couldn’t drive to the thrift store, the dump or to pick Mr Moi up from work.

So Mr Moi was forced to go AWOL from work. He ended up doing all the moving while I sat back and gave directions.

So, what was so bad that had me dilapidated during the most crucial moving phase? Well, here are some pictures of the spoils. And let’s say that photos don’t do it justice.

The bruises on my knees

The bruise on my wrist. What you can’t really see clearly is the green bruise that settled in the middle of my palm.


A knee close up. So painful, I couldn’t even pull down my pyjama pant leg.


And that’s why moving totally sucks…

PS And in case you’re wondering, the beer was Coopers. Strong beer, that Coopers… Until you move to Ukraine.

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19 thoughts on “Why I think moving sucks

  1. That looked really painful – but I was waiting to hear that you had ran into that cactus…that might have hurt worse.

    Next time – a box of chocolates is also a good Thank-You present. hee hee

  2. Yea, at least you didn’t fall into the cactus garden. I stumbled once in Arizona and put my hand out, stopping on a Cholla – took me a month to get all the thorns out of my palm and fingers.

  3. Youch that looks painful. Maybe you should have bought the green labelled Coopers, it has less alcohol than the red labelled Coopers. And yes, it’s sad that I know that. 🙂

  4. Dear karmyn. No, luckily, I didn’t run into the cactus garden. Which is a blessing, as I would have to have fallen over a retaining wall to get there.

    Dear amy. We’re just not having luck today are we?

    Dear joeinvegas. Ouch! And that is why I am glad cactus isn’t all that common in gardens in Australia.

    Dear Robin. You said it 🙂

    Dear theotherbear. Yeah we’re not fans of the green label. We like the red, and it was only $40 a carton at First Estate for, like, ever. But, here’s a story: When I was in Adelaide working at the show down there, I had a beer in the bar after work. I was drinking ‘Coopers Light’, which was on tap. After three or four beers, I could hardly walk. Turns out ‘light’ is the colour, not the strength…

  5. I don’t mind the taste of Coopers, its just that whole ‘sludge in the bottom of the bottle’ thing that puts me off.

  6. I thought maybe you were going to tell us how long it was to work where you now live…
    but instead we fell in a hole.
    (:

  7. Dear beccy. You probably wouldn’t mid it, there’s quite a variety available.

    Dear claudia. Yes, it totally sucked. I was so glad to get it over with. Two weeks wasn’t enough time.

    Dear willowtree. You have to roll or gently upend the bottle a few times to mix in the sediment. No sludge!

    Dear pamela. You’re right. I have no idea why I was compelled to share my commute. I probably was going to put in a line about how, in that case, I had to finish work early to move, cause we had no time to get anything done otherwise. My commute now is zero minutes!

    Dear sabrina. Yep, it was. Gosh, I felt so dang tough 🙂

  8. Oh, my! What a horrible experience. But I’m sure you got some ribbing about doing all these on purpose, so that you didn’t have to help with moving? You bad, bad person! The bruises look painful!! 🙂

  9. We moved into this house when my ankle was broken and I had a cast up to my knee. I was of absolutely no help.

    Did they ever explain why you couldn’t hear? How frightening!

  10. Dear enid. It was fun to an extent. But I like things done my way, so I got a bit frustrated.

    Dear zandria. Not so much on purpose, but more exaggerating the pain. There were a couple of sniffy tiffs!

    Dear melissa. I think I was just in shock. After I fainted then woke up, I could hear fine. Broken ankle – oucha! Luckily, I’ve only ever had a broken thumb.

    Dear chrisb. Yes, I’m glad nothing serious was done too. It would have been awful to move, and have to get a cast removed in Ukraine!

  11. ah the infamous news wrap – still alive and kickin although sllightly absent at the mo with conf and WW 1st bday….bring on those headlines

  12. Oh chick you poor thing. I agree completely, moving definately sucks the big one. The bright side is you got happy on pain killers and Mr Moi got to do all the work 😉

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