My house is empty.
I have no amusing anecdotes, except the fact that one of the movers was almost certainly my cousin by marriage (although I did not inquire to verify). I was able to woo him with my proletariat charms when he threw a tantrum toward the end of the day.
Now that the furnishings are gone I cannot avoid the fact that the house needs to be painted.
Luckily Gabriel arrived to save the day – he always turns up when I need help. We toodled around town trying to match paint colors for the better part of the available daylight hours, and chose all the wrong things, but at least the kitchen is well under way.
I’m making a pasta dinner and hoping the paint brush doesn’t fall in the water. I suppose I could have cooked in the other kitchen but during the move it acted as the repository of important papers and assorted items we cannot take to the UK.
Every single time I walk in the room I jump in fright at the sight of an animal on the counter, even though I know perfectly well it is just my taxidermy deer head.