(diaryland) August 20, 2012 - 10:12 a.m.

I fucking love my new house.

And by new house, I mean my 1960s motel-looking edifice.

The front facade reminds me of being one of three hot sticky children bickering in the back of a station wagon, pulling into another two-star motel in another country town.

So there's that.

Then there's the way the house grew every time we put something in it. I was super worried nothing would fit because it just seemed so tiny. But nope, it's kinda small, but better laid out that the old place.

Two dogs and a cat live at my new block of units. They're fluffy.

The old place now looks like a squat. There's rubbish and gas masks on the floor. I wish that chapter was already over.

A lot of sort sentences there, baby.