The World According To Me

The new house is good. No, it's great. The girls and I are settling in, fighting for space in front of the actually-functioning-warmth-producing-heater. I am burning candles and incense like a crazed hippie to try and make the place smell like my own. I have found that it doesn't matter who was living in a house before you, it always smells like 6 nannas and a couple of pops when you move in. I still haven't unpacked everything properly, but will get there. It is amazing how much better your furniture looks when it's against a neutral background, as opposed to crazily patterned carpet from the 1950's.

I had to spend two days last week in Melbourne, learning. It wasn't particularly fun. What was fun was sneaking off to meet with mates in the evening, legitimately drinking ciders on the street (I'm really not adjusting to the no-smoking laws). We got completely mangled in just over 3 hours, which was a fair effort in the circumstances. I then slinked back to the firm's apartment and tried to act straight whilst dropping bits of dressing-covered lettuce from my burger all over my black coat. Classy.

Each time I go into the CBD, I fall back in love with Melbourne a little bit more. The narrow streets and the grime and the noise and the eclectic wonder of everything. Yes, that sounds bumpkin.

On a more personal, let's share everything with the internerd type of note, I finally gave up on my 'it's my body, you can't touch it' campaign of too many months to mention, on the weekend. I'd forgotten how it felt. I'd actually forgotten how it felt. How bizarre. The old riding a bike adage applies, however.

I am tired, disorganised and desperately sick of work. The man who I am supposed to have my babies with* is leaving town and I am quietly devastated. I need me some time off to sleep and regroup and get happy and iron my clothes.