Oh well, in five years time we could be walking round a zoo. With the sun shining down over me and you.

Another slightly concerning moment in our relationship becomes apparent:

"You prefer Ben & Jerry's over Häagen-Dazs?!"

Pull me out of the aircrash. Pull me out of the lake.

It's been a difficult week.
When things don't go your way, it's very easy to find yourself being groped and mauled by negativity.

Things get tainted. Expectations get blackened. The day becomes tattooed all black and grey. And the worst thing of all, is when it takes all of your strength to keep chalking in that line. The line that draws a circle around you, defending all the goodness in your life against the dark and the ominous. Against the sinister and wicked.

I'd be lying if I said it had all been doom and gloom.
It hasn't.
And things can and will get better.

[Interlude]

Hello avid Some Guy readers!
I just thought I'd drop by.
So Some Guy, would actually be My Guy, because I'm The Girl. Making my Some Guy Blog debut. Thrilling! So SG has moved in with me and begun posting pics of my toilet roll misdemeanors eh? It's a travesty. Can I just point out that the god awful toilet roll holder and god awful wallpaper is nothing to do with me. Naturally my first concern when I found out he's been blogging about toilet roll. Can I also just add that the toilet roll has been 'rectified' (no pun intended) by myself in order to make the transition for SG into my home more comforting for him. Later when he's more settled I will of course continue with my previous 'random placement' habits, and if I'm feeling especially churlish he might get a pile of empty toilet rolls dumped under the sheets in his side of the bed. Oh i'm so dastardly!
I'd like to say hello to SG's readers, and thank you for supporting him via the power of blogworld with all the mad things that have been going on with him over the last few years. Holding his slightly clammy bloggy hand as he ventures forth onto new paths on his journey.
Anyway, that'll do from me for now. Let normal male service resume!

Enough about me, let's talk about you for a minute. Enough about you, let's talk about life for a while.

The balance of the universe is once again restored.


"I don't really mind which way it goes", The Girl says. "I just put the roll into the holder and don't find out which way round it's hanging until I peel off the first sheet."

How completely fucking random is that!

Going back to the corner, where I first saw you. Gonna camp in my sleeping bag, I'm not gonna move.

Temporarily living with The Girl has some distinct advantages.
Watching her do Pilates is one of them.

Her dog appears to have moved on from the 'excited to see me' stage; yapping, running on the spot, jumping up at my legs, to the realisation that I may have moved in on his turf. I've caught him a few times giving me his best attempt at a displeased look.
Her cat perfected that look many months ago.

Open, baby you've left me. Oh and now I'm shattered into a million pieces.

It's beginning to dawn on me that it will be a while before I begin to think of myself as a resident of this city, instead of a visitor.
The Girl needed a few art supplies, so we hopped on a tram into the city and spent some time wandering around The Northern Quarter. I really like it there. We've only seen a fraction of the area, but from the little we've seen, it's definitely somewhere I'd like to spend a lot more time.

I've made a worrying discovery. The Girl hangs her toilet roll the wrong way round.
I feel pretty confident in saying that even though it's probably not something one would consciously 'think about' whilst changing the roll, it's almost certainly a sub-conscious decision that ensures that the roll is always hung the same way round.
Next time the roll needs changing, I'm gonna hang it the other way round....the correct way round and see how long it takes before The Girl says something.

Blimey! A disagreement over the correct way to hang toilet roll could cause a rift in our relationship!

'Cause every once in a while, you think about if you're gonna get yourself together.

I travelled light.
It could be seen as a worrying sign to know that your entire life can be moved almost a hundred miles in just the back of a car and a small van. But I don't feel anything other than free. I feel like I've shed a shit load of years. Years that I'd finished with. Years that held nothing else for me, except distant memories.
There's a huge sense of relief coming over me and most of that is due to me moving up with just the things that matter to me. My music, my clothes, my pc, my magazines, my DVD's, Marley; my plant, my spent gig tickets and a few other items.
No furniture. No bulky stuff. Very few material things. All of that was either recycled, thrown in the local dump or left for the new tenant to help her out.

I feel like I'm being given the chance to start all over again.
I feel like a nobody with nothing to prove.

For the last time you have me in bits, now shut up and let me go.

I've never been one for lists. I understand the usefulness of such things, but I've generally shied away from them on the basis that when I start one, it always ends up huge and leaves me with a feeling that I'm facing a huge mountain that's impossible to climb.

When I worked in Sales, they would always encourage the use of lists.
Lists for things to be done that day. Lists for things that need to be done, but not necessarily that day. Lists for things that need to be done by other people that affect my own lists in some sort of fashion. And then there were lists of the other lists that would allow me to keep track of where I was with it all.
Prioritise this. Shuffle that. Scratch that thing off and add this, that and the other.
"Lists will help you organise your time better", they would say.
"Keeping an up to date list, crossing off what you've achieved will help motivate you", they would chant.
"Organise your list so that you can easily prioritise your jobs and focus your time and effort on the important stuff, instead of wondering just where to start", they would preach.
Regular training courses would be provided, especially when they wanted to introduce us to the latest 'tools' that they'd found to help us achieve such brilliant listing skills.
On reflection, my organisation skills in a work environment were usually pretty good, with or without any kind of listing system. It's just in my personal life where I suck.

Over the next couple of days I need to get my shit together, because at the weekend I need to be out of this house.
Over the next couple of days I need to pack everything up that I'm taking with me, some ninety miles north of here.
Over the next couple of days I need to change my address with everything that's associated with me and leave this house ready for whoever is going to be my tenant.
Over the next couple of days I need to cancel, change, redirect, check and then double check things so that I don't end up in a damn mess.

I think I'm gonna need a list.

She lives with a broken man. A cracked polystyrene man, who just crumbles and burns.

When I was around fourteen years old, I had cakes and a drink in Ozzy Osbourne's Mum's house.
There's more to it than that, but on the sliding scale of the 'claim to fame' score-sheet, nothing more needs to be said.

Home. Home is where the house is. Roads and roads of houses. Roads that carry on.

Due to apparently choosing the worst time in the world to try to sell my house, I've been running with a back up plan.
A plan B. An escape route. A get out clause.
The Lettings Agency that I do some work for had offered to market the house, with a view to renting it out. After a short dose of nothing, things seem to have changed for the better. Yesterday, I was told that somebody has said they want the place and will make arrangements to pay deposits and such forth, even without seeing it. Today, I popped in to see if things were still progressing and was told that a second player has now stepped up to the mark and also wants the place. Apparently it's now just a case of waiting to see who puts their money where their mouth is.
So....I wait.
I don't know anything about this second person, but the one from yesterday is a girl with three kids living in Devon, which is close on 200 miles away. As far as I understand it, she wants to make a clean break from where she is and move a fair distance to make a fresh start for herself and her kids. Of course it would be completely unfair of me to favour this person over the other, considering I know nothing about them, but already I can't help feeling like it's the right thing to do. I could be helping this girl and her kids out.
Anyway....I'm just waiting.

How strange that all this sudden house activity has happened at the same time some bastard stole the "For Rent" board sign from outside the house.

I started looking and the bubble burst. I started looking for excuses.

So far, this year has been a difficult one.

Living hand to mouth, in a house that doesn't feel like my home. A house that I need to be rid of. A house that feels like it's become a noose around my neck.
Countless restless nights. Tossing and turning. Worrying how bills are gonna get paid and pathetically hoping that if I turn a blind eye to them, they will just go away. Bills that go hand in hand with owning this stupid noose around my neck.
My moodswings rearing their ugly head, once again. I can feel the burning breath of my depression as it's been snapping away at my heels....once again.
Divisions growing between me and my family. Particularly my brother, who appears to be putting more space between us than ever before and I've not even moved away yet.
Trying to keep enough money in my pocket, so next time I see people they don't look me up and down thinking I've lost weight. My poor fridge has never been so consistently empty. Since giving up a job in the rat race and trying to set myself up as self employed, it's been difficult to put it mildly. This year so far has been particularly cruel.
Being down hasn't stopped me getting kicked in the guts.

In two weeks time, unless something catastrophic happens, I'm gonna be leaving this place. And with it, I'd like to be leaving behind the part of myself that's been clutching on and clawing me back.
I'd like to travel as light as possible, so I will feel like I'm starting all over again.

I'll sing it one last time for you. Then we really have to go. You've been the only thing that's right, in all I've done.

Can you know someone too much?
It's common knowledge that in many cases, relationships break down because for one reason or another, the two people just didn't know each other.
But, how about if you know someone really well? Inside, out. Is that also a reason for relationship breakdowns?

How about if you knew what times your partner would eat. What they would wear. Which shoes they would match with that top.
How about if you knew what time your partner liked to always be in bed. How many pages in the book they would turn before they reach for the light. Which TV programmes they would like.
How about if you knew which food to order for them in a restaurant, every time. Exactly which clothes to buy for them and what they already have that they would match it to.
How about....if you could stop yourself anytime of day and pretty much know where your partner would be and most likely what they were doing.
How about if finishing their sentences had become a known entity years ago.

One of the best things about being in a relationship is getting to know the other person. Over time; weeks, months, years, you learn a little more about this person you love. So if you reach that point....does that then make the relationship feel like a lemon permanently in your mouth? Does this become the point of boredom?