Phew.  I did it.  I left the my house (of 23 years) last Friday and I am now living with my Dad for a few weeks before I move into my new rented place.

 

Leaving the house wasn’t quite the emotional upheaval I thought it might be, at least not for me.  As expected, Dexter had a bit of a cry but I tried my best to make it lighthearted by going to every room and saying goodbye with him, thanking it for what it had given us.  We thanked the lounge for allowing him to play FIFA on the PS3, thanked the kitchen for all the toast it had given him, thanked his bedroom for storing his iPod … and the toilet for all the dumps he’d had (his words, not mine.)

 

My friend Richard came round and did a few tip runs for me and once my van man had done the final run to my storage unit, Richard and I shared a bottle of Mojito Fizz in my empty kitchen, just talking about our plans for the weekend, our love lives (in my case, lack of) and then it was time to go.

 

And that was that really.  There were no tears because actually … I wasn’t sad at all.

 

I think saying goodbye properly helped Dexter but at 2.30pm I got a call from the school to say he had a tummy ache and could they give him some Calpol.  I was actually handing over my keys to the estate agent at the time and said I’d just come and collect him – I figured he wasn’t poorly really, but perhaps just a little anxious.  And sure enough, as soon as he saw me, he was fine.

 

We had a drink then made our way to my solicitor where I collected a cheque – not enough to retire on unfortunately, but enough to pay my rent for a few months.

 

And so now … I’m living with my Dad.  I moved out of my parents’ house when I was 19 so this really is a strange feeling, being back.  I’m living in the spare room above the garage and Dexter is in my Mum’s old room … I gave him first choice and annoyingly it seems I have the only room in the house with no heating!  Dad is very independent and stays with his lady friend half the week so actually, we don’t really see much of each other – Dexter and I are out working/at school/football a lot and so it’s not so bad.

 

But I am conscious that I can’t quite do what I want.  It’s a weird feeling, I mean after all, it’s just my Dads, but I’ve lived in my own place for a LONG time and being under someone else’s roof is a little uncomfortable.  Still, it’s not for long.  I’ve spent so much already on MiFi top ups so that Dexter and I can access the internet, I’m not sure I could afford to stay there much longer!

 

Eight more days and I’ll be in my new place.  In fact, I went mattress shopping yesterday (#rocknroll) and I’m excited that, at the age of 43, I’ll finally be moving into my own place.  As in MINE.  Not with a partner, but on my own.  (Dexter coming with me kinda goes without saying!)

 

Exciting times!

 

 

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Published by Kate Sutton

Writer, Mother, Dater.

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