Well now, with one thing or another it is taking me longer than I expected to settle in and get my routines and rituals in place. Though heaven knows why I imagine myself to be some sort of Superwoman capable of organizing an entire house in the space of two weeks, with all utilities correctly set up, furniture sourced for all the odd little corners, an extra bedroom created for Stevie where there was no bedroom before, clothes folded and stored away in sensible places, deliveries accepted apparently all day every day, no garden to speak of, an audience of toilet going workmen all day every day, finances helped back on their feet after all the expense of moving, and the stabilizing of a business that is rather suffering in the midst of all this.
Yep. This is a case of Superwoman Syndrome if ever there was one.
The day before yesterday I developed a stomach bug of sorts, ran upstairs to vomit and promptly opened the toilet seat on my head resulting in an egg sized bump on my head that along with the thyroidy bruises I am sporting everywhere from exhaustion, rather looks as though Ste has taken up beating me with a big stick in the dead of night. I am, I am sure, now known as The Battered Woman in the post office down the lane: a post office that frightens the wits out of me so close is the experience of popping in for a pint of milk there to visiting the twilight zone. I am not from around these parts see?
Then yesterday in my haze, I got in to the car to go and meet Kath to give her her daughters much overdue birthday present and managed to reverse the car in to the ditch the gas man had made to channel pipes to the house being built behind mine. Oh yes. The car was in the ditch. The drivers seat was hard up next to the lamppost and I had to scrabble out over the passenger seat, somehow managing to rip a big hole in my trousers on the way and go get a man or ten to heave the car out of the hole.
I now truly believe that anyone moving house should be gifted a week in the Seychelles immediately after to get over the sheer horror of the whole shebang. Because I am telling you, moving house addles your brain.
Anyways. I am writing this post to tell you that as I recently mentioned in the Living Room, I am currently having to reverse some of the changes I made here on BrocanteHome in the Spring because some of the new systems are causing absolute chaos for you my lovely readers. Mostly those of you who visit or shop at BrocanteHome on a tablet or mobile and who thus do not fully see the links you need to follow after becoming a member or purchasing a download. And those of you who email my vastly cluttered ancient old email inbox.
So I am for the moment having to do a little bit of tinkering behind the scenes. It is terribly, terribly dull but it will hopefully alleviate many of the admin problems currently consuming my time. You see it is not only at home that I suffer from Superwoman Syndrome. Here on Brocante I convince myself I can do absolutely everything and that not asking for help or paying for the kind of services that would make all the difference would be foolhardy when clearly it would be EXACTLY what I need. Damn it. Do you think there is a pill I could take?
Today then I am re-opening the original Shopify Brocante store because digital delivery was more reliable and didn’t take Sherlock Holmes to help you find your purchases. I am also setting up a dedicated Customer Service email in-box so you don’t get lost among the flotsam and jetsam of every newsletter I have ever signed up for, slapping a raw steak on to the giant bruise on my head and taking delivery of a bookcase and walnut sideboard I bought on the wonder that is Schpock for the princely, silly sum of just £20.00….
Busy, busy, busy. Have a lovely weekend won’t you?