Home work


Thank heavens that’s over and we’ve decided! I cannot believe how draining domestic matters are, especially when they involve grinning inanely at strangers, trying to kick their tyres to find out if they’re mental while communicating your own non-mentalness, before inviting them to move into the house where you sleep only a staircase away from a load of kitchen knives.

The chilly one, the one that smelled of drink, the one who bellowed with laughter every time anyone spoke, the muscly tattooed one who kept throwing yoga moves, the one who wanted to be left alone to look inside the wardrobe. Ker-rikey. I know there’s someone for everyone, but really? REALLY?

Though there were also some very nice ones who either turned us down (presumably because I smiled so hard I went from welcoming to craven to scary. It’s a spectrum) and one who just said yes too late. But we think we’ve got a corker. And thank God I can stop talking about water pressure, bin days and gas bills.


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