photo

I might do this tomorrow. Anyone else on board?

hubris

Yeah. So I posted my beach picture, stood up from the couch and went to have a shower… only to have Mr. T start yelling for me to come back and see this. Then he said, “Oh no wait… maybe you don’t want to see this.”

He was right. I really don’t want to see this.

Oh, you can’t tell how big that is? (Or you’re focusing desperately on my my pink glass lightshade in the dining room through there?) That is one BIG MOTHERFUCKING HUNTSMAN. Oh, you’d like a closeup? How nice of you to ask…

I actually couldn’t resize these to my normal size as I couldn’t bear to. Yeah, so guess who else likes the beach? Fucking giant spiders. Glorious. My personal favourite.

summer

It’s been such beautiful weather the last few days… I wish I lived near a beach or something.

*not gloating just feeling extremely lucky*

*also omg I have a mortgage and will have to work until the end of time*

busybusybusy

You know what? This is my three-hundredth post. How about that. I would have got here sooner, but I’ve been busy. What with buying a house and moving and all.

Yep, Mr. T and I have finally bitten the bullet in Melbourne and purchased a house. Looking back I’m surprised I didn’t talk about all the many many weekends driving around looking at houses, complete with Mr. T’s carefully annotated spreadsheet of places in open-home-time order which we had to visit. I still have it – there is a column for comments, in which I have attempted to jot notes to remind myself which house is which. A couple of them just say things like “scary” and “bad renovation” and my favourite, “omg drug house” which… OK, can you tell we didn’t want to spend much money here? Not that we COULD spend much money, but in fact if we were willing to go with what the banks were willing to lend (“Sure, we think a monthly mortgage repayment of 1.5 people’s salary is totally manageable!”) we could be set up in a very nice mansion indeed. Of course, I wouldn’t be able to sleep, what with worrying about the mortgage and all, so we went for a more manageable (yet still SHITKICKINGLY expensive) option and ended up here, bayside on the wrong side of the Westgate Bridge.

That’s right, you heard it here first. I am. a. WESTIE. Also, I need to buy moccasins. And possibly trackie daks. We are in an old suburb, about 1km from the beach, in a brick house, and it’s a cross between liveable and a fixer-upper. We are pretty pleased. The dog is happy. The cat is unmoved (and yes I lost him outside for a few heart-stopping hours – things never go smoothly with the cat and moving). I have put off writing this for so long in the theory there will be photos… but I can’t find my memory card reader and since there are still boxes everywhere I can’t see it happening for a while. The kitchen is unpacked (LOVE the kitchen) and everything else is on hold under the premise that we might be replacing the carpets. Also, I just can’t be bothered unpacking any more. Oh look, I found a photo:

House keys.
Next post: Why I need hundreds of house keys.