... between the house and the cottage progresses in a series of lurches.
Friends come to supper and to see what we've done in the house and so we rush round opening more boxes, putting out a few more books, pictures, ornaments, hiding the empty cartons and crumpled paper in the attic.
After they've gone, we slump back into indolence.
This week we have friends arriving to stay, so another lurch - this time to prepare the cottage - is necessary.
For years - like camels with twin humps - we have carried more stuff than we need (the effect of merging more than one household) from one house move to another. Now, finally, we have the opportunity to split the stuff between the cottage and the house. But oh, what a task!
This set of table mats here, that set there (except there's a solitary coaster that missed the move and is in the wrong place). These round trays won't fit on the shelf in the house kitchen, would they be better in the cottage? How many baking trays will people on a week's holiday need? Do we give our guests the set of matching saucepans (will they even notice?) and keep the scruffy mixed set for ourselves? Why is there only five of everything and not six?
We have too many wardrobes, so two stay in the attic. And so many occasional tables. At what stage in our lives did we think that number of occasional tables was necessary? And we don't have anything useful like spare good double beds, or attractive dressing tables. So the cottage bedrooms look strangely mournful with small single beds, a wardrobe and not much else. Well Tod's left his electric piano in one bedroom, so any insomniac musical guests should be fine.
Everywhere needs dusting, sweeping and de-spidering. How quickly the spiders move in.
The cooker still needs a good clean. But joy of joys, yesterday in the late hot evening, I de-frosted the fridge.