Thursday, December 8

You would call the garden rules out like commands. And we would all obey. But you'd stifle giddy laughter as you spoke. And puncture the pretend.

It feels very, very weird to think I have someone else moving in with me.
I don't feel precious about this house. My house. I'm not feeling guarded and protective about it. If anything, it's been a noose around my neck for many years now.
But I don't hate it. In fact, I love this place. It's a quiet road, I don't hear anything from the neighbours. In fact, the house adjoined to mine sold a good few months ago, and since then, there's been loads of workmen in banging, drilling, scraping, knocking and clumping around. So no connecting neighbours, which is good for the music....which is good for my soul.
It's convincingly roomy, with it's lovely loft-conversion, its open-plan ground floor and funky conservatory. The cats love it here, which is good news considering there's potentially another three joining them!
Yes, it's a great house.
And I really do feel completely comfortable thinking that there will be a time when I no longer think of it as my house. It would be our house.

I keep getting asked what happens when one of the 'house rules' gets broken.
How utter shit to think that I have any such 'house rules'.

All being well, it all kicks off tomorrow.

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