Day 2; aka I don't know where any of my stuff is anymore

Friday was the official move day, and the day I almost sat on the floor in my new living room and refused to budge any futher.  We've moved home 3 times in the last 3 years but this by far was the most stressful.  Chris did all of the heavy lifting and van driving by himself, and I'm not sure how he managed it.  He's pretty awesome until he gets hungry and 'hulks-out'.

In the living room the fireplace has had to be blocked up with boxes to prevent the cretin of a cat from taking another sooty exchursion.  I've ordered something called a chimney balloon, which was designed to retain heating and prevent debris from falling down open chimneys, so I'm hoping that it can thawrt the antics of spidercats too.  I like finding alternative uses for things.  Like when I pick out a nice bottle of pinot blush for the weekend, and the label harps on about summery notes that compliment italian food - I presume it will compliment a Domino's pizza just as well.  Improvising is the way forward.

The front reception room resembles a fly-tipping zone of boxes, bags and brown tape.  It's all a bit of a flammable trip hazard. 

The bedroom only has the bed in it until I can paint the walls and move everything else in.

And my will to live is in a corner somewhere hugging its knees, rocking back and forth while humming a tune about being lost at sea.

In perkier news, the very first thing I ever bought for our new home was a vintage style brass railway clock.  I got it a few weeks ago when the exchange was imminent and I was feeling all positive about moving house - and it's now proudly displayed from the living room chimney. 

The time will be correct twice a day until I can find what blasted box the batteries got put in.

clock on one side,
thermometer on the other

Also on Friday we got our new sofa delivered, reduced from £550 to £350 - although the sales guy tried to make up the loss by flogging 'essential' additional products like red herring insurance and slidey feet to help Chris vacuum under it easier.  What the fool doesn't know is that that we don't vacuum under the sofa, we just send the cat under there with double-sided sticky tape attached to his paws and see what he comes out with.



comfy sofa with designer cushion from TK Maxx



I don't know where any of my stuff is, so I might join the cat up the chimney if I can't find my favourite slipperboots very soon...