Home sweet home

I was out of my office for a ciggie break and some air (mutually exclusive?) when this mailman who had come in to drop a parcel proceeded to lecture me on the hazards of smoking. Smoking is bad for your health??? No kidding! This is news to me. He just kept spinning that same old scratched CD about how it’s affecting my ability to procreate and who will want to marry me then…

Dude. That’s rich coming from you. Pick your belly off the floor or at least buy a shirt big enough to cover it and wobble back to your undersized scooter. I will quit…one day. But let me worry about the kids I will never have. You are proud of your good health? I’m sorry to burst your bubble but those varicose veins aren’t going to get you past fifty either. Now lay off the beer, give your tiny scooter to your son and go save some other poor sod.

In other news...
Its been a long time coming but I'm FINALLY moving out from my Aunt's place this weekend (yay!!). I've been fixing up the apartment for the last week and spending my time browsing the web for interior decoration tips, devouring articles with titles like "how to make a small apartment feel like home". Everyone is avoiding me these days coz right now I'm all about couches, paint and curtains. From talking about dog food I guarantee we will end up discussing just how shabby "shabby-chic" is or the most effective techniques to create an illusion of space. I can't count the number of times i have stopped in mid sentence because I noticed something that gave me an interesting decorating idea, or taking a moment to feel the fabric on the couch.
A little while ago my aunt's hubby walked in after work with a book he had seen and immediately thought of me: "How to choose a colour scheme". As soon as he dangled it infront of my face tantalisingly, I yelped with joy and nearly pissed my pants in anticpation.

Clearly, I just can't wait to pick up that stick with my little bundle of clothes attached to the end, throw it over my shoulder and head out into the sunset.
Goodbye squeaking bunkbed!
Away with the mould-ridden suitcase I've been living out of.
Away with the cute but extremely annoying little monsters cousins.
My space. My room. My TV remote.
My orgy(-ies) on MY couch. And you're all invited.

Free advice (donations always welcome though): After that debacle with a certain bathroom cabinet i was trying to assemble but thanks to my wayward hammering right now all I have to show for it is pile of unusable plywood, take it from me: DIY is waaay overrated.