I believe there exists the perception, or misconception that one of the causes of severe localised stress may well be moving. Moving of the house kind of moving. Moving abode… moving all the paraphernalia gathered in the last few years from point A to point B on the map. Moves of the self-help type must surely be at the top of the moving house stress induction malaise.
Apart from the physical exertion and the inconvenience of not having a good hot shower available at exactly the right time there is also the stress on the pocket. Stretch of the pocket… wide open! You know the old story, an army fights on the contents of it‘s stomach… the troops need feeding, but there’s no time to cook a meal… so, get take-aways. If that only happened on one day it would be fine… but no, the constant shuttle between the two dwellings seems to increase the hunger… and decrease the tolerance to waiting for a feed. Off to the chipper, again.
Horrid words and concepts enter the realms of sanity… ‘Mom… won’t you get some of those wrap thingies from ‘micky dee’s…’ or, that flat pie pizza joint so-and-so has a good deal going. The sweet and sour from Mr Fu-Youg’s is quite good. I’m amazed at how my family know all this stuff… especially as we tend to stay away from the insides of take away establishments. In my case it’s more like the ‘sweat and sour…’ the sweat on my brow generated by the sour taste in my mouth at the thought of all that greasy muck I have to pay for!
Then, there’s the slight inconvenience of having to put up with the too-many-chiefs-and-not-enough-Indians syndrome. All the helpers want to do things their own way… little thought for stepping back for half an hour, evaluating the priorities and then getting things done in an orderly fashion. First we tackle room A… then B then C… consequentially, not a bit here or a bit there. Not, ‘Aaah mom, my bits must go first because they’re precious to me…’
I have to throw in at this point that we’re quite good at this move thing by now. This must be about the 7th move since arriving in Ireland some 12 years ago. There are reasons but mostly let’s just say if you can’t afford a place of your own then you’re at the mercy of landlords or at times, circumstance.
So, what’s my plan? Save money, remain as stress free as possible… calm, collected, contentment with life. How, I hear you say, is that ever going to happen. Well, I’m working on a little scheme… a wee plan.
I could go off to work the whole weekend, leaving the whole sordid mess in the very capable hands of the good lady who is less prone to flipping her lid than I am. That has the added advantage of raising a few extra bob for both the government and the family. Imagine the peace and quiet… no stress, no noise… and even a few extra pennies to pay for all those take-aways…
Then… I could be the man about the house. Shout the odds, get properly cranky and autocratic, dictatorial… precise, concise… exact. That spells stress… for a few others. The knock-on effect? Their stress results in retaliation… the ever tightening spiral takes it’s toll. More stress… more barked orders… more insubordination. I think you get the point… fun, all good clean fun!
On the other hand… I could whisper a few instructions in this ear or that… delegation of duties. Then… I could push-off to our favourite butcher and get some steak, get some veggies… maybe a bit of fruit. Then, while the whole move is happening smoothly under my watchful eye I can light up the BBQ and have a good old Saffer braai! Not forgetting a touch of the good red stuff to compliment the occasion.
I’m of the opinion that the simplest of plans would be to string together some sort of compromise deal. Work a little… shout a little, whisper a little and save vast quantities of money by feeding the masses with a few braai’s. The only problem with that theory? The lovely Irish late autumn weather… on second thoughts… that could also affect the stress levels. Can’t seem to win, which ever option I take…
Then… to really round off the feelings of contentment… I’m reminded of one of the reason for the naming of this blog… a move some 20 months ago. This time, I’m faced with the option of renaming the blog Ouch My Back Really Hurts… or, Gosh… My Back Is Better! Aaaah no… maybe I’ll stick with the good old OMBH! 😉