yawn

I’m so tired. All my days got mixed up, and I was blithely making my way through Tuesday when I realised it was actually Wednesday and all the things I thought I had an extra 24 hours to accomplish, were in fact due in mere minutes. Sob. And this morning I woke up convinced it was Friday. Nothing is sadder than thinking it is Friday when it is not. Except maybe thinking it’s Saturday. Yes, that’s worse. Carry on.

Anyway I have moved out of my little playhouse and moved back in with Mr. T. Yay for me. Well, yay for him, because I am clearly a splendid person. Also, the empty lot next to my apartment is about to be built on… NO NO I GO NOW. So I have cleaned that house, emptied it and crammed all my stuff back into this tiny house. Also I bought more stuff. That’s what I do. At the moment we are sitting in the lounge, and my feet are tucked up under me on the couch because there is no room to put them anywhere else. I can only see the top half of the TV because of the boxes stacked in front of them. Mr. T needs to iron a shirt, but the ironing board was foolishly in the corner of the room when we started moving stuff, so now it’s quarantined behind several boxes, a cabinet, a duvet and two airing racks. And a dog, because somehow they have crammed themselves in here as well. And the saddest part? The lounge is the one room I was trying to keep relatively clear of stuff. You don’t want to see the bedroom (hint: two mattresses on one bed base make a REALLY tall bed; I feel like the Princess and the Pea (the princess, not the pea)) and you really, really don’t want to see the spare room. Rumour has it there is a window at the end. I don’t think I’ll see it from the inside again in my lifetime.

I am working out of my company’s other office for a month, which puts me right near the Skipping Girl sign. You know where that is, I’m sure? That’s right, CLOSE TO IKEA. Only I could write about having a house crammed to the rafters with crap, then with no irony whatsoever discuss the merits of working close to a mega furniture store. Honestly, I couldn’t even fit an extra candle in here with a crowbar.

… well. Maybe ONE candle.

Bye, little kitchen. How I envy your clear benches.