It’s been 9 weeks since we moved out of our home and the builders “moved in”. Since then, we’ve lived in 7 different homes, 8 if you include my parents’ flat in Portugal. That’s 8 moves.
It’s incredible how something you dreaded can quickly become your new normal: I now find it normal to move home every weekend.
We’ve managed to reduce the amount of stuff we lug around with us to one carload, including the three of us and Rafael’s buggy, with some space to spare.
Rafael gets a bit confused sometimes, but he knows his house is “a little bit dirty” and we can’t go back just yet. He’s visited and seems excited about the works.
Hopefully, we’re just a little over the half way point. I can’t wait to be back home, with my things, but I’m so used to being on the move and having to adapt to other people’s homes now that it feels weird to even think about it.