Mid January...

It's scary how quickly the months go.  The days go.  I worry so much more about the future these days, and when time moves so quickly it worries me more, because the future will get here too soon.

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So, did we end up homeless?  I've had a few ask me, and the easiest answer is "I'll update my blog".  And it's only taken me, ooohhhh, a couple of weeks.  Oops!

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We didn't quite end up homeless. 

Remembering that we were "meant" to be out by the 31st December, but the boss had ever so kindly and unofficially said it would be ok if it was more like mid January...
At Christmas Shane had 7 applications for positions around the region.  They were all "lower" than his position here, so we were fairly confident that he would get interviews.  But our fear was that he would be seen as over qualified, as it's happened several times before. 
But.  Guess what.  Of all of those apps, only one employer contacted us before Christmas.  We drove two hours to get to that interview.  The location was great - only an hour or so from my family.  The house was great.  Gorgeous really.  The job was... well, meh, but Shane was happy enough if it came through.  But the interview was non existant!  The employer showed us the house, took Shane for a drive around the property, didn't ask anything and kind of rushed off on us when they returned.  We figured that that was a no go (it was) and that he already had someone in mind (yeah, thanks mate, we could have done without four hours driving and petrol money that day!).

Then there was another one - it came about by word of mouth via my father's stock agent four hours south of here.  Short(er) story is that the employer emailed Shane two days before Christmas to say he wouldn't be interviewing before Feb.  No use to us.
But the next morning he called... he needed someone urgently as his worker had had a "brain explosion" and bashed his wife and neighbour the night before, and was now in jail.  Hmmm.
So off we trekked... a three hour drive from here, but only an hour or so to the other side of the city.  Down side is that there was 30km of dirt road, travelled by road hogging log trucks, to get to the house.  Funnily, the employer had Shane's contract all typed up, and the job was his.  Biggest down side though?  Not the crappy road.  Not the climate of a few good dumps of snow every year.  Not even that the job was more about cattle than sheep.  And the money was just fine.  The biggest wrong thing was that we couldn't even see our "new" house, except by drive by, as the people still lived there, but it was trashed and she was in hospital and he was in jail.  Nice.  BUT even that wasn't exactly the worst thing... what was worse was that they couldn't give us a date that the house would be ready... maybe 3-4 months and in the meantime we would be moving into this tiny old, old, old three bedroom cottage.  Nooooo thankyou. 

But beggers can't be choosers, right?

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So, Christmas was spent still up in the air.  Feeling somewhat better that we at least had something, but feeling a little sick on the "down sides" of it.  And really, really hating the boss here.  Still do.  Arsehole.

Did I tell you that the week before Christmas Shane rocked home with a homemade Christmas cake, a box of beer and a christmas card from the owner?  I think I may already have posted about it, but basically it made my blood boil.

It was addressed to Shane and Henrietta. 

Henri-fucking-etta???  He doesn't even fucking know my name!  Seriously!!!!

Anyway, it went on to say how he was sure that we would find something so much better and blah blah and merry Christmas. 

I really saw red on it.  How rude.  Who sacks someone then sends them a Christmas card saying all of that shit?  And how do you get to be 80 years old and that dumb?

Anyway.

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Just after we returned from our Christmas the boss here came to see Shane and offered him another month's work.  What a relief! 

He told Shane that since they'd had their "talk" he'd found Shane so much easier to work with, and that the issues that Shane had brought up about the other two employees (who have been here 17 years +) the boss could now see for himself and was addressing. 

Is there not something wrong with this whole picture?  Shane was the one who lost his job, yet the boss is now saying "oh yeah, you're right... there are big problems there!".  Again... my blood boils!

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Now, one of the applications that Shane had in was another job he had found by default when a young fella came to buy a dog and brought his dad with him.  Turns out that his dad was a big property owner, about an hour from here, and was looking for a stockman.

We went to meet him and his family a week or two after Christmas, and Shane was offered the job.  He's very excited about it, as it's exactly what he was looking for.  I'm looking forward to being on the other side of this move.  I still feel sick about what went down here, and nervous that it will happen again.  It's that anxiety thing.

Whilst we were sitting in the owner's beautiful homestead, the wife told me about our new house... it's an old bluestone homestead... five bedroom... renovated kitchen and bathroom... walk in pantry... laundry... french doors from the bedrooms and lounge onto the verandah that goes around three sides of the house.  It's a very pretty picture, is it not?

In truth, it is exactly what she told me, but the picture it paints is not quite so pretty.  It's a tired old house, that could be a real masterpiece with some money spent on it.  The bathroom is newly reno'd but disappointingly has no bath for Toby.  I know many don't have bath's but I'm a believer that little boys should have a bath to play in.  Oh well.  The kitchen is reno'd, but maybe twenty years ago.  The walk in pantry is narrow and dark.  My thought was "spidery".  The french doors are narrow, and the only windows in the rooms, so the house is quite dark (I like natural light).  I also noticed a nice gap between the doors in what will be the main bedroom.  I think it's going to be a cold and draughty house.  Shane says it won't be, but he lives his life wearing my piscean rose coloured glasses.  The verandah is indeed nice, and overlooks the land stretching out below.  It'll be nice to sit out there in the evening with a glass of vino.  If I ever really get back into doing that.  Maybe just a glass of boring old lemonade!  But Toby could easily slip down off the verandah between the rails, so it's not a safe place for a toddler, but we'll deal with that.

The yard is overgrown and needs a lot of work.  They spoke of wanting to put gardens in and a watering system and the like.  I hope that they are true to their word, and do some work to the house and yard.

But I am excited to have a house again.  This is a house, but it's awkward, and wrong.  The "new" house is built like a house.  It has a hallway with two bedrooms coming off it.  Toby will have one, and we will have one.  It has a lounge room and another bedroom off that.  I can have a dining room again.  And the other two bedrooms are actually an "add on" that includes a "sitting room", that I'm going to use as the "guest" wing and a storage room, and the sitting area might be a nice escape with the second tv and a place to chat on the phone.

So, this is actually the back of the house.  I didn't get any other photos as I was dealing with a tired and hungry Toby, and also we just didn't know if the job was ours or not at this stage.  But I quickly snapped this as we drove away.  The stone part to the left is the laundry, and the kitchen is "behind" that, then the middle part is a built in verandah which I plan to make my dining area, and the area to the right is the "guest wing".  So, as you can see it's a tired old house with a lot of character and potential.  Potential doesn't mean much when it's not yours though.

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I'm trying to get packed up now, but it's a good day if I get one box packed at least.  Yesterday I did three boxes, but no dishes or anything else.  Today I did no boxes but almost finalised some photography for a client, and the dishes!

The ILs arrive in seven days... for nine days in this house, and who knows in the other.  Let me show you what my living area looks like at the moment (well, earlier today)...

That's a two seater lounge on the right, and to the left is the corner of the dining table.  I have the portacot there as a playpen at the moment, but I'm putting it away tomorrow.  I thought it might give me a little more freedom as Tobes is over his toys at the moment and makes a beeline for the cats water dish and any electical cords he can find, so I'm constantly running after him and getting nowhere.

But if you remember my rants from the last time... I am NOT looking forward to this visit.  And... FIL apparently didn't want to come, so MIL told him he was coming to babysit Toby.  So now he is happily coming, but he's going to be rather disappointed when he finds that he's not capable!  He uses two sticks to get around now as his feet are so bad, and his shoulders are both inoperably dislocated, so he has never been able to lift Toby, let alone catch him before he gets to the kitchen and bring him back.  I think MIL thinks he will just lay there and not move or something.  I'm cross about that.  And she refuses to listen to me.
MIL is constantly on to FIL and telling him he's useless (he is).  Shane speaks to them both like poo, and he'll be yelling at them to shut up because he'll be watching tv.  And poor Toby will be whisked away by me.  The "spare" room is where all of my packing gets done, so I won't be able to do my late nights (MIL goes to bed at 8), and our bedroom is off the kitchen so Toby and I will be woken with the beds (she gets up at 5 or 6) and I certainly won't be ablet to go back to bed with Toby as I do most mornings now.  Which will make for a grumpy mumma. 

Ooooh I'm not looking forward to it.

I also don't have my study to escape to anymore.  My work computer is smack next to the dining table.  Bring on the new house!

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In Toby news, we had two teeth arrive at Christmas, then a couple of weeks break, and I think we're just starting up again now.  Poor bugger.  Last night he had a couple of good screaming sessions in the middle of the night, and it just makes your heart break for them.  The pain :(

But he is no longer my baby.  He's crawling everywhere, and gave up on the commando crawl for the real thing a week or so ago.  He says mumumumumummm alllll the time (oh heart melting), and occasionally a dadadadddd.  He looks for me.  He gives kisses.  He loves other children, and hasn't a shy bone about him.  You really do just love them more and more every day.

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But Ciaran is still not here.  I don't see him in Toby every time I look at him now.  But he's still in everything I do.  And I'm still very bitter.  I don't think I will ever lose that bitterness.