Yes, well now that I have got my maths sorted out, I have now worked out exactly when it is I am going. I have to admit, discovering I had one week LESS than I thought I had threw me somewhat!

I moved out of my apartment this weekend. It started on Friday morning when three big burly Aussie blokes walked in armed with cardboard boxes, tape and Stanley knives. Before I knew it, my things were being packed away at the rate of knots and I didn’t know whether to stand there, help out or simply get out of the way.

With a big black texta, each box was scrawled with “Cawthorne Israel” and the relevant box number. Sometimes the boys got it a bit wrong, and the boxes were labeled “Cawthorn Isreal” but I am just being pedantic now.

By about lunchtime, the boxes had migrated to what twenty-four hours previously had been my living room and once again I thought, this is what my life boils down to; a collection of cardboard boxes and miscellaneous items.

It was not long before everything was put in the truck and they drove away. I waved goodbye which I know was a pretty stupid thing to do, but no one was looking and, well, it made me feel better.

I should also point out that by Friday afternoon I had just about completely lost my voice. I have not been well the last week or so, but I wasn’t feeling too bad. Thursday night I was entertaining the boy by doing my very best Marlene Dietrich impression, but by the next day I was pretty much unintelligible.

I have had bad throat infections in the past, but I have never completely lost the ability to speak. It’s Monday afternoon now and I still can’t speak properly! I have had several people offer their opinion as to what the problem might be. Most feel that stress is a key factor (I won’t argue that), but others have had deeper psychological insights into my condition. One friend felt that this was my body’s way of showing me that I haven’t truly expressed my fears and given we (apparently) hold our emotions in the throat area, this is a very obvious and physical manifestation of my fear.

Since Friday night I have been staying with some wonderful friends who have welcomed me into their home. It’s only round the corner from my old apartment, so everything still feels quite familiar. In just over a week, I will move into a student room (albeit a very nice one!) at the residential college where I work at the University of New South Wales – so I will be living AND working in the same building – won’t that be fun!

Throughout the weekend, I had to go back to my apartment several times as various people have bought things and needed to collect them. Bye bye fridge… bye bye washing machine… it’s hard to get emotional about white goods and receiving a nice wad of cash in exchange for them made it quite a pleasant experience really.

There were a couple of things though that were quite hard to part with and left me feeling quite upset. I am not saying there is logic behind this, but I am fully aware of the fact that logical thought is not my strong point at the moment. My friend Rani bought my sofa and my dining table and I felt such a pang of sadness as my pink sofa drove away in the Thrifty hire truck. So much so, I ended up writing a poem about it over breakfast that morning. (If you think I am insane, that’s quite ok, I am fully aware of this fact).

So here it is – read it and weep.

Ode To My Pink Sofa

It was love at first sight.
She was soft feminine and pleasantly plump.

“Get it” said Lena, “While you are still single.
A man would never let you buy a pink sofa.”

We were a perfect fit,
Pink Sofa and I.
I could snuggle from head to toe or if I had company,
Pink Sofa would envelop us in a warm embrace
But three was always a crowd.

I think we always knew our relationship would end one day.
“I wish I could take you my darling, I wish I could.”
“I don’t take up much room, I swear, and I promise I’ll be good.”
“Oh my darling Pink Sofa. I promise she’ll love you just as much as I do.
Perhaps even more.”

“Don’t leave me” cried Pink Sofa, “I love you!”
With one final embrace I waved farewell as the truck doors closed
And she drove away from me forever.

At least I loved and lost Pink Sofa.
It was better than never having her at all.

So folks, this is where I am at now; me (minus a voice), two suitcases and my beloved laptop.

Stay tuned for the next exciting installment and hopefully by then I’ll have my voice back.