Housecleaning

We looked at a unit in the city. We expressed interest in the unit. We toasted the buying of the unit. I started mentally decorating the unit. Then we did the math with a mortgage broker, and realised that we could not buy the unit without our wallet getting reamed *severely* (sans KY). We mourned the loss of the unit. That was just this last weekend.

So I'm stuck with my ridiculous commute. I'm heartily sick of it and I hope we move soon. We can afford to pay more for rent, and it's about damn time we moved to a better flat. As it is, today the hotplate on the (40s?) stove died. As if certain people who get at least 3 hours a day more rest at home than I do need a hint that Its Time To Move, there's another one.
The thermometer rising is another clue that we need to leave. Very soon, our drafty little box is going to become a stuffy little box, and I need to sleep through the day sometimes.

Moving is not negotiable.

I've been continuing the process of de-cluttering my life. The first of a few bags of too-large clothing have gone to charity. Not cheap, and they haven't all been replaced yet, but they were just taking up space.

Ouch

D and I are back from our holiday. I had an extra stop in Darwin to see my family. 
I've just recovered from what I can only describe as Tropical Bowel. While medication set me right for the duration of the 4 hour flight back, the joints and muscles that were cramped up in my little space on a Virgin Blue flight are all complaining VERY loudly today. Ow. Ow. Ow.
Guess I'm getting old.... or perhaps just too old to fly economy. 
This rubbish plastic student swivel-chair thing that I'm sitting on is going to be replaced very soon, by something well-padded with arm rests. 
Back to work tomorrow.