settling (i hope)

Today's the day, people.  Settlement.  If all goes to plan, I'll own a house by this evening.  I can probably stop using the "I want a house" label after this. 

Keep your fingers crossed settlement proceeds smoothly ... god, I hope we've got enough drawn down to pay for the damn thing!

Yesterday, I surfaced from a intermediate grade hangover (slept until 10.30, watched crap on television, went to the supermarket and ate my face off then napped until 3) and realised that there was still a boatload of stuff to pack.  This was a pretty drastic realisation and led to about an 8 hour round of serious packing activity surge / oh god I'm so thirsty / shuffling things for a bit / can I just have a break? And over again.

The worst part of the packing is the realisation that we have to find a home for most if not all of this crap and the house has no storage.  No wardrobes, no linen cupboard, a tiny ass pantry in the kitchen and about 2 cupboards under the sink, one wee cupboard in the bathroom under the sink.  That's it.  Where on earth I'm going to keep all the freaking teatowels I seem to have accumulated let alone fascinators, tiny leprechaun hats and other such costume junk I discovered late yesterday evening I've no idea. 

Oh wah, I know.  Cry me a river.  I'm pretty damn excited, for all that.  Will live out of my boxes for months and will try to only whinge about it in small doses. 

Maybe I'll even take a picture for you when I get there. 

ha ha ha, also:

Insurance Lady: 'So, have you had any claims in the past year?'

Me: 'Um, there was that time the Fire Service had to bash in our front door because of the fiery prawns.."

Insurance Lady: 'Well.  Well.  That doesn't sound good."

this is full of curse words

It’s been one of those days, you probably know the kind.  Total shit storm.  Last day of the financial year at work (bill those bills, baby) + the last working day before settlement on the house (sign that documentation in blood, thrice, witnessed by Satan (or a solicitor, sorry N!) + INSURE THYSELF, WOMAN.  YOUR ELECTRICS ARE SUBPAR + big worky deadline.

To add injury to general woefulness, my lovely new work shoes, while fine around the office generally, are not made for traipsing up and down stairs all week.  My god, the pressure points. 

My choice of dress today (Richochet, circa some time ago) is beautiful.  It’s also stuck like a static motherfucker to my tights (despite the slip, which I thought was a guaranteed old lady cure) so every time I’ve stood up, it got caught up around my ass and I looked like I was walking around with some kind of vagina-hat.  Imagine, if you will. 

Stress pimple has been staring people in the face today.  I was not aware of this until about 5 minutes ago.  The concealer is not in my bag.  Fuck. 

My husband (big promotion! So proud P! Celebratory lunch for you!) MAY have been under the influence when signing our lives away.  I couldn’t possibly comment. 

Whinge / rant / etc.  Next week is gonna be so much better.

more pointless lists

Between now and Tuesday:

- umpteen hours of work (no. srsly, I think I live here right now)
- fifty trillion more hours of packing, if packing = throwing things in boxes
- last minute freak outs about funding and letters of comfort etc
- a gazillion emails to lawyers and the bank
- purchase of a new shower curtain (why am I obsessed with this?  I really don't know, but there it is)
- find a fridge, buy a washing machine
- pick up beds
- ditch husband to move and arrange cleaners etc while I continue working
- finalise insurance following electrician's visit
- settle the purchase and take on the largest debt known to man (it feels like)
- find the photo albums (where the fuck are the photo albums?!)
- locate SIL's couch
- wash the god damn sheets so we have something nice to crawl into on Tuesday night.  Every other set is packed and cradling glassware etc
- etc
- etc
- etc
- blah blah blah

Hold me?

post scriptum

A year ago today I left the job that was making me miserable for three of the best months of my life travelling.  A day to remember!

edumacation

Hallo, have been AWOL, work + insurance + post redirection + power + inspections (oh mi gawd it was still awesome even if the current owners' cat litter smelled a little...funky) + interest rates + you don't really care, do you? 

Things what I have learned this week:

• My boots aren't as waterproof as I originally believed (damn you Jones the Bootmaker).  However, they make satisfying squelchy noises.
• My umbrella (pilfered from my brother in law, possibly - I found it in the back of our car) is useless (karma?  Probably)
• Auckland's definition of a seriously cold winter is laughable, but the breeze coming in my office window on the 21st floor is a disturbing wretch, tickling the sides of my neck.
• My husband's version of sleep talk/walk can only be batted off with a firm slap in the chest (last night, he was insisting on tickling me and cackling in a way I've never heard before.  After I pushed him off with a slap, he knocked the lamp into the bed and was surprised to find it there several hours later.  He remembers neither of those episodes this morning.)
• If you think you don't NEED the Milky Bar but you WANT the Milky Bar you will REGRET the Milky Bar
• $50 high heels will scuff on the first wear, badly.  That is why you should spend more than $50 (don't worry, I'm taking them back and will no doubt replace them with...another $50 pair.)
• Don't scratch it.  Just, don't. OK?
• New tights are the business.
• Mums are the best. 

That is all.

celebrations / commiserations

I had a very nice birthday, once I'd thrown the hangover, thanks.  Not a day over 18, I swear.  I yell-whispered "ITS MAH BIRFDAY" and "WHERE'S MAH PHONE" at P for about 10 minutes when I arrived home at 2am on the morning of the big day, reeking of cheap bubbles and some vile energy drink/vodka combo.  As it turns out, you can forgive a birthday girl quite a bit but some things are always, always annoying. 

(I told him he should just be grateful I didn't kick on with the others.  He told me that a decision to kick on is usually made by 10pm and doesn't get remade at 2am.  He still made me a bday cuppa tea in the morning, so I was only in the dogbox briefly (whew).)

As part of my nice day, I hung out with my sister.  We were flipping channels from my couch as we lazed following a tasty brunch.  Then: golden moment! We discovered 'Making the Team: Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders'.  Now, you might think that K and I don't have a great deal in common.  Sometimes that's true - I love tomatoes, she loves tomato sauce.  She's an excellent sportsman, I have no coordination whatsoever.  Etc.   But when it comes to trash television, we have a shared passion for excellence.  That show is beyond brilliant and I want to join the kick line (but I'm worried I'm too 'soft' and have a little too much 'jiggle' - the euphemisms were offensive yet somehow outstanding).  How have I not known about it before?

Had a quiet evening with friends, watching the rugby and chatting.  Just lovely, really.  Oh, and I am devouring my new copy of Wolf Hall, superb (why yes, I am about four years late to the Hilary Mantel party, thanks for noticing my lack of cultural relevance.  I am about to go and discover Hemingway or something, then present it to you like it's a revelation, OK?).

Birthdays are alright with me.