Ever read about the official rankings of the "Most Stressful Life Events"? Divorce, death of a loved one, and job loss... stuff that makes your palms sweat and your soul weary. But having just navigated the treacherous, relationship-testing, budget-annihilating ordeal of moving house, I'm starting to think those lists need a serious rethink. Forget wishing to win the lottery; there were moments over the past few months when I was genuinely contemplating whether divorce, death, or an involuntary redundancy might have been the easier option. At least they have clearer endpoints and fewer cardboard boxes.
It's been weeks! Weeks of sorting pointless knick-knacks, painting walls, negotiating with contractors who then, after shaking your hand, promptly vanished into the ether. Seriously, where are the good workers now? "Yeah, looks good, we'll ghost you next week." Rinse and repeat.
Then came the unpacking. A never-ending tsunami of bubble wrap and forgotten belongings, forcing you to confront questionable purchases from a decade ago. Learning the new rhythms of life – when the bin men decide to grace your kerb (is it blue or green bins this week?), figuring out which local shops have available parking and don't charge you a fiver for pausing in a bay. Discovering the quickest route anywhere now involves a silent prayer to the roadwork gods. Honestly, at one point, the idea of simply abandoning everything and retreating to a remote cave with a decent Wi-Fi signal seemed like a sensible life choice.
And what do you know... one part of that dream is now gloriously sorted. Behold: The Man Cave. The Office. The 'Get Shit Done' space. Attached to the garage, it’s a little slice of heaven where I control the very air I breathe, thanks to an independent climate from the main house. The arcade machine is humming, the work laptop is connected, and the sacred Beer Fridge stands ready. It is my bastion of calm, a fortress of solitude against the chaos of unopened cardboard boxes.
Sitting here now, cold root beer in hand, wondering which version of Mortal Kombat to spin up today, I look back at the preceding weeks of torment – the contractor-induced rage... and you know what?
Maybe moving house isn't that bad after all.
