We had word from the shipping agents this past week that our container made it to Brisbane.  This is good news, although  quite honestly moving continents a couple of times has made me far less materialistic than I ever thought possible.  In fact by the time we left I don’t think there was a single item I would have not been able to leave behind, if necessary, and simply replaced once we got here.  They’re only things, even if some of them were quite nice things.  Some of my nicer wooden boxes, for example… (!)

Except, perhaps, the photographs.  Those are irreplaceable.  Which is why I was my usual organized self and at the last moment (literally – the movers were already packing boxes upstairs!) I gathered up all the negatives I could find, stuffed them into an envelope and mailed them over to the Cousin-In-Law’s address so they were waiting for us when we arrived.  Just in case the ship got hijacked by pirates off the coast of Somalia, or the container went overboard in a typhoon or something.  You never know.

That aside, it seems the thing made it here – whether everything is in one piece remains to be seen.  It has yet to clear Customs and Quarantine.  You see, they found some Items of Concern.  {sigh}  They always do, don’t they?  Yep, three shoes (apparently only one of a pair was naughty) had some dirt on them, and The Husband must’ve missed a spot when cleaning the lawnmower because it seems there is some Organic Matter hidden in a crevice somewhere on that too – so they have to be steam-cleaned and re-inspected in case they are carrying some disaster-causing microbes that could upset the delicate balance of Australia’s eco-system.  Mentioning that these were all cleaned beforehand by The Husband would be petty of me, especially if I were to do so in an I-told-you-so voice, so I wouldn’t dream of doing that.  Getting annoyed that this is costing us $85 and holding up the release of the container by another week would be utterly pointless, too.

There was another item, too, and this one was under my jurisdiction, I guess.  It is a plastic plant.  Well, not so much the plant, but the plastic wiry vine thingy that goes with it.  They reckon we need a permit for it.  (All together now:  “But it’s Plastic!!!“)  So for a mere $420 for gamma radiation (!!!) plus another couple of hundred dollars for the permit, I get to keep my fake plant that’s worth, oh, maybe $15.  I THINK NOT! – Dear Sir: Please toss the thing in the bin and let’s never speak of it again.

So it looks like we’ll spend another week on our ugly brown charity shop couch (which is starting to collapse a little on the one side, just by the way) and the camping chairs (definitely not so comfy anymore after a month).  Our cheap-o cutlery set, the one we bought to see us through until our stuff arrived, is starting to fall apart – we’ve lost 2 teaspoons and a knife so far – and apparently even cheap glasses don’t last all that long.  We’re down to 2.  I’m almost wishing we had left all our stuff behind so that I could’ve started replacing it with decent new things already.  My home-making instinct is beginning to feel awfully frustrated.  And this echoing off the empty floors and walls is beginning to do my head in.

And you thought it was all a bed of roses here, didn’t you?

Oh who am I kidding?  It’s a week.  I feel so glad to be living here, I don’t mind waiting another week.

Although the echoing really does get a bit annoying 😉

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