Good Morning

This morning I have woken up in 2004, in a studio apartment.  Last night I slept in my HQ, which is a spare bedroom upstairs where I have my sewing stuff and a too-small table to spread out my notes and papers. 

I dragged the boys to a small hardware store yesterday for vacuum bags for the ants but they didn’t have the right size. So after we came back from a birthday party and then a burger joint, I dragged my tired ass upstairs and crawled into bed with this guy.

This morning, I am surrounded by most things I had in that teeny apartment more than a decade ago, when I moved to Sydney to start my grown up life in the big smoke: bathroom, desk, ironing board, wardrobe, and clothes strewn hell to breakfast. The only thing I lack up here is a kitchen. On the other hand, I’ve got some thought-provoking art that I didn’t have back then.

Even someone talking in their sleep in the next room, last night, reminded me of those days, because my studio was a renovated sun room or etc, on the back of a house with a couple of roommates in there. But someone complaining loudly about not being able to play minecraft had me crashing back to reality, and I need to tidy up the kitchen or Husband will lose his shit when he comes home today. We met a few months after I moved into that appartment, he was a little less vocal about my mess.

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To Do: drink.

We have a big house. It’s going to hurt when it falls down on us. There are carpenter ants underneath it and in the walls, munching and munching away to make a space to lay eggs. I can’t remember the names of them, I always think they are Trelawney Ants. 

They are fuckers, is what they are. They were eating a wall at the front of the house, then we had them gassed. I found them in our bedroom, which led to finding a leaking pipe in our bathroom and some horrendous damage, oh goody! With that gone, that should have dried up the ants interest in the house, but today I found them on my bedside, in my wardrobe and my clothes. It’s all a bit overwhelming, not to mention annoying AF. But that’s the joys of homeownership, I suppose. 

Note to self: next time we contemplate buying a house, cloose an empty plot of land and build it ourselves. When we are ready to pour the foundation, also pour every last cent into the wet cement and stop right there. It would be less stressful, I think.

We will need to replace the damaged wood inside the walls, and floors, too, if they are defying gravity, and I wouldn’t put it past them. 

I tried to vacuum the c****s out of my wardrobe, and succeeded for a few minutes, until I saw them all over my clothes and fucking wept – just like Jesus, except not as pious, and then geared up the vacuum but the bag was full, and the GD thing won’t work without a bag and there are no bags left. I hate my life.