Blogging, it’s an addiction if you ask me. So much so, that even though I am busy day and night setting up my new house, I am still typing my thoughts out at the slightest hint of some free time. What if I don’t have internet access right now, I’ll put it up when I do in a few days when I do. So dedicated, aren’t I?

Now what brings me to the word processor again? Maybe because the last one week has been a really taxing time for me, physically, emotionally, and spiritually too. So I have quite a lot to say. But how does moving house do all those things to a person? The spiritual part is something I’ll tell you about some other time, since it doesn’t have anything to do with the moving. But about the rest, well, that’s why I’m here now, isn’t it.

So let’s start with the most obvious part, physical exhaustion. Thank goodness we hired a few good hands to do the moving. I would’ve died of straining myself if it weren’t for them; I don’t even know how that many items had fit into that small house. But they do require constant supervision, so I was on my feet all day long. I even helped move some of the heavier objects, and I tell you, it wasn’t as much of a problem as trying to make some hard headed henchmen put the objects where they belong. But let’s not forget the part where I’ve been hounded with the most irritating bout of insomnia since the past one month. I’m up until the wee hours of sunrise, and up again already within almost no time. Attachment is a bad thing, and I’ve found it difficult to sleep without mine. But no sweat, I’ve got some work done as well. Some studying, some recruiter pestering, some networking, and the late night snacks aren’t a bad thing either. But still, physical toil becomes a luxury I can’t afford in this state. Yet I have been up to the task when the moment called for it, brilliantly so, if I must say it myself. But it doesn’t end there. As I said, there are many more facets to my exhaustion.

Now, how does a house moving become emotionally taxing? Simple, with memories, and other assorted things in my case. You see, I had lived in that house for three whole years. And there are bound to be some very amazing memories attached to the place throughout those years. Not for me. In fact, when I started moving, I didn’t feel an iota of longing for the chair I sat in, or the bed I slept in. But there came a moment, that one moment which changed my inner state in a jiffy. Just as I sat on my old couch, looking at the movers take the last piece of furniture to be moved over, I glanced at one corner, and it all came flooding back. Memories, but not from three years, and definitely not randomly. All those memories were from one day, and I went through that entire day, minute by minute, second by second. I got up, took a walk around the place. That couch had conjured up a memory. And somehow, magically, in that moment, every wall, every door handle, in fact, even the breeze blowing about the now empty home of mine, was an ode to the beautiful day. It was so vivid, that I could even smell the fragrance of the rose petals wafting throughout the house. That’s where the memories branched, turning into a running commentary in my head, spanning two different days spent within that house.

Roses had held a special meaning to me on more than one occasion, but only on two days within that house. And as I remembered those two days, I repented the past month, especially the past week. As much as I hated to admit it, I had missed us. We were never the perfect couple, never each other’s dream matches. I admit it today, not once have I pictured her clearly in my dreams, all I see is a hazy outline of her. She wasn’t the girl I had always visualized next to me, but she is still my perfect girl. Because it was the person that she is within that I wanted to spend my life with, and still do. I didn’t dream of her because dreams are fantasies crafted by the ever restless mind, but I heartily committed every word and action of mine, just like she did then, in creating a future where we were together. I tried to change the very person I have been most of my life, to become the man she always wanted me to be, and I put all my feelings into it. Because love isn’t measured in thoughts, it is measured in feelings, especially that one feeling of being not two different people, but one complete person when you are together. You must have lived your life without that person, but somehow you can’t imagine life without that person anymore. So I did all I could to facilitate that, but as I said, I was trying to change habits I have followed all my life, which, even though they were bad habits to begin with, is definitely not an easy and quick task. The only hope I had was that she would patiently stick with me through that change process. But there came a point where her feelings started wavering, and her thoughts took the better of her. She’s still the same girl within, and I can see that. That’s why I haven’t lost hope, that’s why I feel like going on. That’s why I will continue what I have been slowly but steadily doing. But I still miss her sometimes, like I did sitting on that couch. Aye, I was sad within, but that still wasn’t the end of it.

Moving with your family is a pain, because there are umpteen differences of opinion that crop up, on everything from where to place the television to what family pictures to put up. And there have been too many so in my case. It’s been one hell of a messed up emotional affair. And this is just the beginning. Refurbishing an apartment from the bottom is no easy task, especially when the people involved are on a quest to the perfect interiors. It will take a lot more time from now, but life will be back to a manageable pace within a couple of weeks, or so I hope. So until I am too busy to recount my thoughts to you again, why don’t you go and grab a few cheers!