Thursday, July 13, 2006

Moving Stinks

You may not realize this, but I lived in the same house all the time I was growing up. We never moved from that perfect house and, in fact, my parents still live there. I enjoyed not moving, not having to make new friends and not packing and unpacking. I enjoyed knowing my community, the bus schedule and everything around me could be counted on for at least some degree of sameness. Know why? It’s because, as I have learned in the last 8 or 9 years, I loathe moving.

Do you realize that Hubby and I have lived in three different countries in the last 12 months? Heck skip countries, they’ve also been in three different continents! Were we to expand that slightly to 14 months we could say that we had lived in 4 different homes in that time. Not to mention all the temporary hotels and other dives (IIC) we’ve been sequestered in, in DC, Delhi, and now Nairobi. Allow me to break down the last two months for you…

In June we packed our suitcases and said goodbye forever to our home in Golflinks and headed over to the Duke’s flat in Jor Bagh for two days. We then repacked our cases and headed over to the Oberoi (sweet!) for 3 days before we winged it home to the Real World. During that two-week sojourn we spent delightful suitcase time in both Toronto and Illinois before heading out to Kenya. Now in Nairobi, we spent two and half weeks in House Number Four and then yesterday we were moved into the Hostel for the remainder of our stay. Hopefully in a few weeks we will be moving again but this time into our shiny new apartment.

Let’s recap the number of places we’ve stayed, shall we? In just seven days in June we racked three separate Indian domiciles, followed by two Real World ones and, so far, two Kenyan ones. That’s seven homes in less than two months. Rumor has it they may even try to move us to another room yet again. Do the words over my (insert several four letter words) dead body mean anything to these people?!

One more recap for the road, shall we? I hate moving. I hate living out of suitcases. (Please note: There is one exception to this rule: I will not mind flying to, or living out suitcases for our vacation in Australia!) Where was I? Oh yeah... We still don’t have an apartment to live in. Our status has not yet been changed so our things that didn’t fit into suitcases are melting in storage in India. Oh, and if I have to write a blog in 8 or 10 month’s time about how we’re moving to a new country again: Hubby will… I don’t want to make threats but let’s just say that it won’t be pretty.

Did I ever think I loved the life of the ever travelling expat wife? Well... maybe just a little.

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