So, one month ago I kinda bought a house… I am a homeowner. Properly, me, myself, and two furry little people who aren’t on the deeds but appear to own a good number of the rooms nonetheless.
It’s 10 minutes from work at best (and 40 minutes at worst but that’s mostly as a result of being based at two sites), detached, and in a neighbourhood that is blessedly and weirdly silent for 6.5 days of the week (even playing children are quiet!). For the other 0.5 days it is in fact near a stock car racing stadium, but I can more than live with that. Given how much I dislike noisy neighbours, it’s ideal. It also has raised beds already installed, which I have now weeded.
The cats joined me about two weeks ago and I’ve baked bread for two weeks in a row now, the second of which not being soda bread (which I’m not sure counts since if you can fit it in a lunchtime it’s not really a mark of being established), and I think the combination of cats and bread making makes the move official.
I went mad in the first two weeks and painted the bedrooms and the living room; only the kitchen and hall are left to paint though I’m taking a break from painting for a bit. I still need a few more bits of furniture, like somewhere to keep clothes in a more organised fashion than piled inelegantly on the floor of my built in cupboard/wardrobes, but it’s entirely functional. Plus I have internet, hurrah! The neighbours aren’t insane either – one on one side is even in the same profession as me, small world! I’ve been invited to dinner unofficially, an invite which was preceded by the question “are you a vegetarian?” and followed by “do you like game?”, so I think we might be on the same wavelength there… I have frozen pigeons in my freezer.
Work is all up in the air, but house and cats are happy.
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