I am surrounded by packed boxes...only three of which I half heartedly threw things into, the rest I watched scott pack, with the speed and accuracy of a movie ninja.  
He was born with all the skills and I am a blobby jelly (lime of course, that's the best flavour jelly) on the bed watching and wishing I could be muscular and fit and do all that sorta thing.  (Not)
We're moving, did I forget to mention that, probably because I am believing it is all a dream and we are going to get to the new house and some twat is going to shout 'HAHAHAHAHA YOU DIDN'T THINK THIS WAS SERIOUS DID YA.'  Then snort derisively.  'You didn't think you could ever EVER own a house didya, didya, didya!'

Yeah folks, on the property ladder, and not just one of the lower rungs either, we (well I say we, I mean Scott, my husband) bought us the most gorgeous, beautiful little cottage up in otaki.  Its gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous. 
With fruit trees and a huge harden, and a potting shed and a place to keep chickens (as if that is ever going to happen) but I suppose we could put scotty's stinky fat cat in there.
I have a huge bedroom with vast closets into which I can squeeze my five hangers laden with my five outfits and under which I can lay, side by side, my four pairs of shoes.  (2 of which are jandals and two are sneakers, purple and red)  oh oh no, there are five pairs, I forgot my slippers.  Yes I am that pathetic.  Shut up.


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