We're moving out of our flat tomorrow, and I'm gutted. There are so many things I adore about the house: it's three stories, my room is enormous, the ceilings are all really high, the wooden floors are beautiful, the bathroom is red. There are annoying aspects too - the so-called landlord, the fact that none of the windows open because they're all painted shut, the toilet which leaks into the kitchen, the garden at the front not being big enough to sit in, having to put the heating on for half an hour before you can have a shower; but I'm still going to miss it.
I haven't done any packing: a combination of laziness (and being out drinking) and ostrich behaviour; Lara keeps telling me how much she's done. I'm out buying things - I need three cans of chickpeas and 10 pairs of chopsticks now, right?
Still, the new house has some good points: opening windows, a wee garden in the front, and a wee garden at the back, a spare room... I'm starting to struggle here. It's easily the best of the places we've looked at, but it's not a patch on our current place.
So, yeah, bring on the weekend - I can hardly wait. (Thank Dionysus for The Vineyard.)