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.

5 comments to yawn

  • What a beautiful little kitchen! I live too close to an IKEA myself…

  • laura

    ebay giveth, and ebay taketh away…

  • That sounds like good news about you and Mr. T.

    Sorting boxes pre- and post-moving would have to be one of my least favourite jobs. Good luck. I hope you find the ironing board again one day.

  • Bernice

    That kitchen…you’re not related to Julia Gillard by any chance?

  • Mal

    Good luck with the move… and rediscovering all those little things you’d forgotten you’d packed away in all those mountains of boxes! It’s adventure time! Hope it’s a long positive wxperience with MR.T and the hairy ones [NOT Mr.T! lol] as well, for you both :)
    Cyalayta
    mal :)

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