Twas the night before

 moving 

And all through the house 

Were boxes and bags and bits and pieces yet to be done 

But I am done from the organisation exhaustion.

Of the trying to manage every moving part without looking like you are doing it.

I find the best disguise is to appear as inept as possible and they would never guess. Do never guess.

I've been successful in that subterfuge so far.

Image: flavours packed in the working pantry boxes on the waist height level of the box wall in the kitchen (Peach iced tea, pink grapefruit, lemon, lime and bitters - 3 Bickford's cordials - and Buderim ginger's ginger refresher)

I have managed to pull off quite a few items on the checklist today, but I really didn't help myself by leaving my phone in V's ute when I went to redirect mail and he the shops. 

Image: pills, keys and a box of redheads matches 

I contemplated using the payphone nearby, but there was a crazy guy on hold to a Monday & already overworked public service employee. Or maybe everyone using a payphone on a Monday afternoon exudes a certain madness. Maybe it was his Mum.

Next block two closing down signs. Both retiring, it seems.

I turned and started to walk along the main street into town in the hope of intercepting V.

Another block to the servo, and asked to use their phone to call him.

Image: an I ❤️ Paris with the Eiffel Tower pink cushion, an aqua and turquoise and gold (or whatever colour you call them) and black butterfly 🦋 cushion and a purple cushion with golden trim cushion on a faux timber background.

The guys at the servo were amazed that I knew someone's number as it seems in this day and age we are forced to think less so often. A good discussion ensued.

Image: Gangsterrrrr reclining on white laminate furniture, pink necklace showing off yellow tags highlighting the green in her eyes.

I left a voice to text message and left the servo and  not 20 metres from their door I saw V's ute sail past towards the Post Office. 

Only Four blocks, I think. He will find me about half way. I'll be fine in my "dress up for appointments in town and nice slip on shoes that are fine for nothing so serious as a seven block walk level too serious" outfit and shoes.

How quaint and old fashioned, I thought. No photo opportunities, no notifications, no "I should look up" interruptions or other people's ideas.

My big toe on my left foot by the fifth block began to whine just a little bit. That was annoying.

Image: Gangsterrrrr investigates rocks in the backyard of Paradise.

The sixth block had this beautiful arbour of eucalypts at one point, completely crazy because they had a severe flattop just below the powerlines.

By Seven I was resigned to walking the rest of the way.

I turned towards home and could see the driveway V had not yet arrived home.

I climbed the fourteen steps for one of the last times as he pulled in.

My right foot told me that it too was putting a complaint in to the union.

Image: meme borrowed shamelessly from the internet. If it's yours all credit to you ma'am or sir, you are quicker and wittier than I. It says "hi, sorry it took me five days to get back to your text. I myself am understaffed at the moment"

And tonight as I lay in bed avoiding my brain taking me through the list that I have to do tomorrow, my Gluteus Maximus, hips and the tendon straps holding them together have a chanting chorus that is not complimentary to the footwear of choice this afternoon.

My beautiful, gorgeous, talented, genius, hilarious and perfect daughter has just been told to go to bed, and so should I.

This time tomorrow..