Warm Houses

Am in the new house after the traumas of moving in, I've got quite good at moving as I've had so much practice, by that I mean that it just seems to happen and afterwards I don't remember a thing about it - obviously some trick of the subconcious to protect me from the trauma. The only thing I do remember is that the people that moved out (the owners) left the house kind of dirty and unloved. Hey I'm not that anal retentive but leaving a griller covered in old foil encrusted with year old cheese on toast is a bit much; not to mention leaving half the light fittings with dead bulbs, a shed full of rubbish and hiding all the things they didn't want to take with them behind the shed or under the house, thanks guys. And I don't know about you but I'm pretty sure that towels don't compost - obviously they think that they do or in a last minute effort to hide some more crap they hurled a dirty towel into the compost where it was discovered by me covered in sticky food and insects - yummy!

But I no complain, it has been very cool setting up house and having loads of people over to check it out. At Bondi having people over meant going out, often I couldn't even be arsed getting them to come upstairs to the flat and would meet them in the street but now I can be like all those lifestyle magazines that line the racks of the local newsagents and "entertain".

My interpretation of this means Ed and I have been making many a trip to the local deli to stock up on snacks, dips, beer and coffee to offer our guests and of course scoffing large quantities of them ourselves. It's been great. The other thing I didn't realise about moving into a new house is that people bring you things, I've been given two lovely plants, my Dad made me up a tool kit filled with handy things and my Auntie even brought us a cake which is so delicious I struggle not to eat it in one go. It's so nice, this homemaker business, will I ever leave the house again?