5 days to go...

...til we move into our Dream House. FIVE days! It still doesn't seem real.

I'm currently packing up the last of my childhood. I always thought when I was a 'real' grown up, I would cut back on my kiddy knick-knacks and passion for random stuff. I don't think I'm anywhere near grown up, but sharing a 'real' house with a 'real' man kind of commands it. I was slightly worried at the thought - no more metallic gnomes over the fireplace, no shrines to all things equine brimming over in the spare room, no morepaintings of foxes with slightly wonky eyes adoring my walls - then I realized, hell, this is why I have an entire room to myself at my mothers. She, for one, would appreciate my "personality" (now, why do people say that to me and make inverted comma gestures? Can I help it I like quirky things?) and it might just mean more room to collect 'real' grown up things in my new home.

I see a tea cup and book-end obsession occuring in the not too distant future.

NB: I'm still horribly sad to be moving my collection of stuff far away. I like things. Lots of them. And for every 10 things I'm being mature enough to part with, I'm stuffing one article of my childhood into the Keep box. Defiant? Maybe. Not altogether ready to grow up? Definately.