So I have moved. It’s not the first time. But it is the first time that I got to hawl my crap across an ocean. I decided to do the whole moving-thing in stages, so not to totally traumatize poor Mr Chooch with my girlyness. Men can be fragile, you know.
Stage 1, Potted plants:
Nearly completed, actually. Cause us girls, we know that windows are supposed to be pretty. And not be used as storage units. It’s the same reason why we put on mascara. Slowly but surely, over the past few weeks, I have been sticking potted plants into the windows and onto any flat (or just flatish) surface, until the clutter simply had to move because there was no room for it anymore. Clever, eh? I have also been awarded the nickname ”plant-monster”. I may make myself a badge.
Stage 2, Picture-frenzy:
Why don’t men hang pictures on the walls? Of all my male friends who have never been hitched (or had an overly domineering mother), there’s only two who have pictures on the walls. And they’re all of cars… Nudie calendars don’t count. Mr Chooch owned paintings. They were lined up along the walls. Loads of wallspace left, though.
And that’s as far as I’ve gotten. I’ve been slowed down by a bug. I am a sicky. My nose is all clogged up and my throat is trying to kill me off. Did you know that vomit can come out of your nose? I had no idea until just the other day. The things you learn… Overshare? Well, maybe.Have another song: