In the middle of our street

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Originally uploaded by billyjoebob.

We're moving tomorrow, punkin.

It's strange to think that, having been in this place for four years, you won't be able to remember it as part of your life at all. It's unlikely also, given our gameplan, that we will be at the new place for long enough that you will remember that either.

There IS, however, a strategy in place, I want you to remember that. All of this hullabaloo around boxing things up and taking things apart and sitting on the phone trying to explain to people about when we're moving and where we're moving to and etc etc etc etc, it's all with an endpoint in mind.

That endpoint is, of course, us owning a house. A house where we want to live, a house that's not falling to bits, a house that you can grow up in, with room to kick a footy and space for you to set up your trainset and run around like the mad monkey I know you're going to be.

Before all that, though, we have to stay in a holding pattern for a little while to save up some money.

And that's where this place comes in.

It's a nice joint, don't get me wrong. It has ducted heating and a full size dishwasher and a front door that works and no holes in the exterior walls and a nice backyard and a fireplace in the loungeroom and a bright orange bathroom, but I think that with a little bit of work we can make it a lovely comfy place to live. There's a lemon tree out the back, and a lovely patch of front yard and leadlight windows that cast rainbow coloured shards of light into the living room.

There's a DOG DOOR, which is looking like it will be my favourite thing in the whole world, after your trusty Unky Dave performs a couple of simple modifications to it. Not having to get out of my bumgroove on the couch to let the dogs out will, I think, add significantly to my TV enjoyment.

You're going off to play with Kelly and Riley, so you should have a fun day, although you'll miss out on the joy that is shifting a large (quite frankly astonishing) collection of boxes from one place to another. It's an eye-opening experience to box up all of one's worldly goods, I don't think that you ever really know how much stuff you have until you undertake this kind of shift. Certainly I've been constantly finding things that I thought were lost, or that I'd thrown out.

This is, of course, a process that actively encourages one to embrace minimalism, and all kinds of moralistic pronouncements about "in our new house I will have only four white tshirts" are made. These are, of course, by their nature, strikingly similar to new year's resolutions and have a similar lifespan.

I'll write to you tomorrow if I can, we're not sure about the immediate availability of internet access from our new house (oh the HORROR), but in the meantime,


I love you.