Today feels very strange.
For the past 12-plus years, this would have been one of our busiest days: one set of gîte guests leaving and another arriving. We’d usually be running on adrenaline and a little too little sleep, as the departing family are regulars who have become dear friends, so there would always be a farewell meal together. The family arriving today are regulars too, so there would have been an apéro and dinner to prepare, as well as all the cleaning and changeover.
Instead, here I am at 9h, feet up, quietly sipping a cup of tea.
(And exchanging WhatsApp messages with both families, because they all say it feels strange for them too.)
When we decided it was time to move on, I thought about the practicalities far more than the emotions. Until today we’ve been so busy that there has hardly been a moment to stop and reflect. The builders finished for the summer yesterday evening, so until 24 August—when work on the façade begins again—we’re in an artisan-free zone. No one to organise, no one to supervise… just ourselves and the dog.
Of course, the to-do list is still a long one, and very little is actually finished. But nothing has to be done today. Our next real deadline is several weeks away: transforming the guest bedroom, which is currently filthy and hidden beneath dust sheets, into somewhere warm, welcoming and habitable.
I suppose every major life change has a tipping point, when you finally move not just physically, but mentally, into your new life.
For me, I think today is that day.
So it’s time to press delete on my high-energy gîte-cleaning playlist and spend the afternoon creating a new one—better suited to the next chapter. Although I’m not entirely convinced it needs to be one for a retired old lady just yet.
thank goodness to be made (especially since she, the sensible one, is not here 
