Administrative anguish

You know how occasionally all the little things fall into place? You get the green light, the bus turns up, you get a great park, you don't get lost, your phone is charged when you need it, you're on time. Sometimes it lasts just for a day. Other times it can make a week, or even a few weeks, blessedly straightforward. I'm not in one those phases.

In the larger scheme of life all is well. Health, family, shelter, food. All the big ticks are there and for that I'm grateful. But the small things? Not so gratifying. I've had the kind of fortnight which might be comical if it wasn't so trying.

I've already told you about the ordeal of finding somewhere to rent. The good news on that front is my shouty answers landed us a lovely apartment. Actually my shouty answers didn't help but we now have a place to live.

Unfortunately I'm yet to sit on my couch and feel smug about it though. Because in between finding somewhere to live and being able to enjoy it, lies a wide expanse of time and space called administrative anguish. A special kind of torment. There is so much to do before somewhere becomes a functioning home. Little details that you don't even notice when you're happily ensconced in a place, that make daily life implausibly complicated when you're not.

Small things. Like not having any bins, not being able to locate any kitchen utensils, not having a washing machine, having a washing machine but not having the plumbing set up to use the washing machine, not having coathangers, buying more coathangers and still not having enough, having shampoo but no conditioner, unpacking 20 plates when what I really need is one bowl. It's resulted in endless trips to Target and Woolworths, only to arrive home and realise I'm still several objects short of a functioning home.

A lot of this is to be expected. It comes with the territory of moving. However, where the wheels have really come off is my attempts to manage the administration of life outside the not-yet-working home. The RTA, Medicare, Telstra, Centrelink, Family Assistance, Vodaphone, MBF, IKEA, Customs and Quarantine are just some of the places (on top of Woolworths and Target) that have gobbled up my time, sanity and patience this week.

That particular combination of bureaucratic and commercial service providers really should never be seen in the one week. Even the one year sounds too close together. If you get the option take my advice. SPACE. IT. OUT.

No task has been simple. Each interaction has been more complicated than necessary. I'm always one piece of identification or paperwork short of the requirements. Most of this I would have known had I been online. But of course getting online was a case in point. Anything but straightforward. Despite the promises it took two trips, three days and 45 minutes of tech assistance to finally get connected.

Naturally because it's been one of those weeks, I've also locked myself out, forgotten my phone, been stuck in multiple traffic jams, missed buses, hopped on the wrong bus, been caught in torrential rain and discovered some vital documents are stuck in our shipped goods, thus further delaying and complicating my dealings with the aforementioned offices. Happy days.

There's also been the minor matter of inducting Miss I into her nursery*. Which is in the CBD. Which we reach by bus. In the RAIN. The TORRENTIAL, CYCLONIC, UMBRELLA-BREAKING, SOUL-DESTROYING WETTEST-JULY-IN-60-YEARS RAIN. The very same rain which incidentally has made all my chores and fumbles, that much more painful than they were always going to be.

For the record pushing a pram one-handed, while wielding a handbag, a child's backpack, a bent-backwards umbrella in pouring rain whilst negotiating your way onto a bus, madly trying to find a ticket, is every bit as horrid as it looks. Battling the elements doesn't begin to describe it. On the bright side, the week is done.

*It's been a uniquely emotional and confronting exercise which probably warrants its own post. Fortunately it appears to have been more emotional and confronting for me than Miss I.