How much did you miss me?

Do you want to know how much I enjoy unpacking? () This much. And that is actual size people, actual size. The house is slowly coming together, thanks to shameless charity that we have been taking from anyone willing to give. Fabulous plush chairs, wine glasses the size of my head, a lamp that I couldn’t live without, and a plant that I’m sure to accidentally kill within a month’s time – all free. One man’s junk is another woman’s fortune. Wait. Gross.

I get swirls of pride and elation when I walk up MY stairs, when I see a cat stop by MY garden before moving on to his next prowling grounds, when I hear the sound of the Boy taking out MY trash cans to the curb. But here in lies the problem. Having my first proper house makes me realise that I have control issues. All those "MY"s in bold? They should be OURS, but I’m having a hard time sharing the interior decorating tasks. Each room is an empty canvas, and the end result in mind’s eye is so perfect, I know that if I want it done right, I’m going to have to do it myself. I guess I prefer to play house alone. Which has not been easy on the other occupant of this house, who certainly deserves equal say in how his shelter will look. All I can do is thank my lucky stars that I am with a kind and patient man, who far from a doormat – at least knows how to pick and choose his battles.

The Boy was outside the other night for a whole of two minutes and came back in having met two new neighbours and managed to acquire a dinner invitation for us both. Stephane’s French charm draws people in like flies to honey. A little social butterfly.

After scrubbing the kitchen clean with my own toothbrush, removing how ever many years of pizza’s and ready-made meals from students of yore I have finally made my first meal in the new place. A plaite fish on a bed of tomatoes and courgettes with dill couscous. A delight.

Besides the house being a bit chilly, the fact that I have to walk over a different pile of broken car glass from all the break-ins, the fact that bailiffs are approaching us because the previous tenant is in serious debt and that I’m convinced that one of our neighbours makes crystal meth in their kitchen and they haven’t even approached me for a trial taste, I am utterly content. A kitten asleep in a sunspot with a belly full of warm milk kind of content.