90 days into this writing project.
90 days in and I feel like I’ve done bugger all but struggle hazily through some sentences and moan about work and how tired I am. This isn’t quite what I’d hoped for when we set out on Jan 1st.
Of course, in that same 90 days we’ve not only stumbled across a section but purchased it. We’ve picked and contracted a house plan. Just this week I bought a wood pellet burner for the (imaginary) house, and have spent this evening looking at floor tile samples. Presently I’m in love with this look in timber tiles:
Things are moving ahead. Step by incremental step. My dream of having chickens before I die might just be coming to fruition. Beach chickens.
Our property manager doesn’t yet know that we’re moving out. Given the unpleasant and prickly interactions we’ve had with her since taking up the tenancy here (including being told we’d be evicted when they lost our rent payment), I’m not feeling a great urge to be open. We have an inspection on Tuesday, so still have to make an effort to tidy up the yard and put our undies away and look like respectable tenants. We’re under no obligation to tell them until we’re ready to give a month’s notice… and I’m expecting it will take more than a month to get the building consent sorted, so we have time. I also spent the evening tinkering with the online mortgage calculator and figuring out at what point we will have to move. It’s sooner rather than later.
To celebrate (or just otherwise mark) our upcoming section settlement, I also added a ring to my fireplace purchase. It’s just a silver ring (going to be a poor mortgagee soon), but exactly the sort of Edwardian filigree nonsense that I covet. Plus I’d always wanted something that had the mythical notion of Women’s Suffrage colours… and now I have one… that I bought myself.
Oh dear. Still haven’t learned to stop wanting things…