Surrounded by empty bookshelves

Yowser. It’s been an exciting ride to say the least. Our settlement-ability wasn’t okayed until about 5pm the day before

But we’re now the extremely proud owners of a real live house.

I’m writing this at 6am on Saturday – the official moving day, although we were given the keys on Thursday (CJ and I and one of our friends have been moving as much of the fragile and awkward stuff across as we could to make today as simple as possible: the theme of the day is “big giant truck + friends and family => pizza”; we’re very traditional that way).

Our house is in that peculiar state in which all the cupboards are empty, except for one with virtually nothing but a plug. The fridge is still on, but only until Louisette wakes up. CJ’s desk is utterly empty and mine has this computer, two blocks of chocolate (partly eaten), a box filled with plastic bags, some eucalyptus oil, masking tape, bandaids, tissues, a laptop bag for transport, and a broom: all items that must be packed at the very last possible moment. When we brush our teeth, our toothbrushes go in a box. When Louisette’s morning toast is cooked, the toaster goes in a box. When she leaves the house for CJ’s mum to mind her, she will never see it again – this house that has seen the beginning of her parents’ lives together, and the beginning and (at the moment) total of her existence.

We’ve barely slept in days, so the gravitas of the situation is hitting our addled minds all the harder. This is it – the absurd, wonderful, scary thing.

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