The move from hell is over.

I think I've said those words more than once, & not just this time. Every time has been horrible. Moving is one of the most stressful experiences, next to divorce & death of a family member. I think this time has definitely convinced me that I need to hire movers next time. My wrists were injured in late February from a stilting fall & this move has aggravated them again. Opening heavy doors, carrying stacks of textbooks & boxes of stuff are a major strain on my poor skinny little joints. My knees fared better, luckily.

Last night we got the last carload of stuff in here & started unpacking. I got the bathroom mostly sorted out & Oliver rearranged the office somewhat so there's now room to use the computer.

The kitchen will be a monumental task--where should we put stuff? But more importantly, where will stuff fit? I think we have less cupboard space that our last place, which wasn't enough. Until we renovate, anyway. I plan to carefully plot out the kitchen refit to eke every possible square centimetre of storage out of the space that we have.

However, the kitchen reno is for later. For now, we have to make do with what is left of the manky 1970s cabinets. I say what is left of them, because good ol' Frank removed about a third of them--who knows why.

The whole apartment is going to be a work in progress for quite a while...