I love my house. Those who know me, know this. Those who probably don’t know me, probably know this. It’s something I dug my heels in for. It’s that little bit more expensive, little bit further away from things – it was my first choice.
I couldn’t believe it when we got it, I wanted it so bad I stopped thinking about it. I nearly cried when we inspected it; I remember touching the window sill in the front room, I whispered a wow when I looked out to the view of the city. It has a good view, as it’s on a hill.
The house has shiny floorboards, they are beautiful and rich in colour. The walls are clean, the bathroom is modest – well it’s really tiny – but it is clean and new. No rust, no mould.
As an absolute bonus it has the best air con and heating systems – a luxury I really pushed for as having a small being in over forty degree heat waves is simply the worse.
It took us a very long time to add furniture. I am picky – we are picky – I don’t like chip board, I refuse to pay with my first born for stuff that is simply stuff. I hunted for things on gumtree, in the salvos. I don’t know when this place became home but now that we are leaving it – I recognise that it has become that. Home.
The light in here is incredible. Everything feels exciting and enriched and gosh I’ve just made some pretty fantastic work within these walls.
But – we gotta go. I’ve been packing and packing and sorting and cleaning and juggling and I feel like I can’t go on! There is so much more to do and I want to get this place all shiny again – because I love it.
I finished my mammoth drawing last week and as a sort of therapy I packed up my drawing stuff and it’s already been moved to the new place. ‘Dangling a drawing carrot’ – as Kim Buck said.
I am sure we are more than halfway there. Sure but not so sure but I’ll keep going anyway.
Thanks for reading/ listening.