I moved house on the weekend, into the place Appleheart and I bought in November. As moving days go, it was a pretty good one. Sure, it was 35 degrees, and there was a brief downpour at almost the exact moment we arrived in Preston to unpack. But heck, it was a moving day, not a picnic. So the fact that no extremely annoying things took place, nothing got broken and apart from having to disassemble the bed, take it upstairs piece by piece and then reassemble it in the bedroom, the movers took care of everything, well that seems like a pretty big success to me. And we ended the day with pizza and beer and crappy television, the universal reward of moving.
So now I'm a Prestonian. Things are going to be a bit different. No more five minute walk to Barkly Square. No more being able to hear the bells at the Jewell station level crossing start to ding, bolting out the front door to run for the train, and making it. No more good coffee five minutes away. But instead, I get to live in a home that belongs to me and my Appleheart. It's hard not to feel a bit heart swelly at that. We have a back yard and a front yard. Two lemon trees. A jacaranda. A tiny little fig tree. Yesterday I planted a marigold. It feels like a pretty nice life.
