Bubble wrap or styrofoam beans?

The house sold in one day.  Did I tell you?  It's madness and proof that meditation works.  It works like praying does - all I asked for was a smooth transition - it's turned out to be smoother than a Jamaican bob slayer's bob slay blades but faster.
 
The house inspection: (...let me just take an arrogant sip of vintage wine here and swallow irritatingly loud...) A walk in the park.  Not one thing came up...not a single cotton picking thing wrong with the house.  HA! I say - for this is the house of despair.  The emotional tomb!  I guess inspectors are not trained to check auras.  No, I jest - it wasn't the house, the house it fine.  It's the inhabitants. Luckily we don't get judged or else the house would never get sold. Ever.

No, now it's time to sort and pack.  Not sure what I hate more but it must be done.  Thankfully, as anyone who has ever visited us will attest - and knows me from before; I owned more furniture when I lived in a squat in South London.  (It was a phase and my mum soon put an end to that).  It shouldn't take long unless of course I let the pyjama king help in which case we may end up having to rebuild the house from its foundation up, for he is capable of trying to pull fixtures out of ceilings as if they were baby calfs from a cow thinking, genuinely believing that he was in fact helping.

I will have more trouble deciding which shoes (I never wear) make it back to London and which get to live on a wire shoe rack at a Cancer Charity shop for all eternity.  The Balenciagas will have to come with, as will the boots I bought in Venice but I will have to think long and hard about all the cheapo shoes I got in Aldo.  Don't get me wrong - I have nothing against Aldo - in fact I may very well have become one of its best customers during the summer of 2008 as I slowly descended into bi-polarity.  But to be honest when space = money on a pallette - the mass-made flats will have to go as will all the stuff from Joe Fresh.  Joe is Canada's version of Primark cept you need a car to get to these monster superstores so by the time you factor the petrol and all that ...it's actually cheaper to buy at Harrods.   So, thinking about it, I might have to keep the Joe stuff afterall and get rid of the Old Navy rags.

Then there are the books and CDs...do I really need the CDs?  They're all on the I-Pod...which won't work in the UK because I bought it here.  Fuck - the CDs come with.  Ok - I'll get rid of the Twilight books - they are rubbish anyway and they take up more room than a sofa.  No idea why I got so into them.  They are for pre-pubescent 13 year olds whose hormones are going through the equivalent of London's 1990 Poll Tax Riots.  Oh, yes I remember - I was having a nervous breakdown and it was the only thing I could handle.  Terrible ending...just about acceptable if you've been housebound for 20 years, living off microwave food and just graduated from Mills & Boon romances....but that is only my opinion. Not fact.  I repeat not based on fact just my bo-jangled reality and actually at the time it was just what I needed - so in fact - please read 3 times a day for 14 days and have your prescription reduced before starting the next one because it ends you know...after 4 books and then you have to live with what's left.

I'm ok now. And I must go fetch The Lish from daycare and begin the hell that is known as 'the bedtime routine'.  Luckily I have the meatballs I made yesterday - I wasn't joking about stirring the meat sauce - look:

So I won't need to 'cook' tonight.  Heaven.  Jim Jam king is out so I shall finish the vintage red alone with Aragorn and Legolas and hope to be comatose by the time he swings in like a silverback gorrilla or if the Sambuca makes an appearance (and it is very likely since the good Doctor is there - we'll talk about him another time) - like a herd of wildebeest tearing down the house with their hooves at 5am.  It is a farewell dinner with his best friends in all the world afterall.  I know how sad that will be...so all is pre-forgiven.