Calling Blog Care Services

Were this blog a child it would be extracted from my care by social services on the grounds of abandonment and I would be slapped with jail time, no doubt. However, like the well prepared accused I do have an excuse- Moving. It took a lot out of Ian and I, probably more so me seeing as I would rather give over a limb than actually indulge in the insanity that is shipping ones life from one outpost to another. Nevertheless it has been done- furniture is in place, only a few bits and pieces are lacking and some boxes are still lying unwanted on the floor with ne'er a sign of ever being unpacked. I have, however, discovered that I am residing with Martha Stewart. My wonderful Ian has become chef extraordinaire and is hell bent on creating a 'cosy home' whether I want one or not. There has been talk of wall hangings, accent walls and other such nonsense. I am from the school of simplicity or, or in chic fashion lingo, "minimalism" and so am not too pushed about the placement of various pictures on the walls. The only area of decorating that I will wield my fist of iron in will be that to do with the hanging of my black and white pictures from Vietnam. They shall be placed with the precision of an art gallery wannabe.

Moving might have been a little smoother had the mattress delivery men been able to tell the difference between queen and double. The mattress fits but the box spring might be able to sleep one of Snow White's dwarfs at a push. I have no idea how such people manage to get jobs. Before anyone asks why I didn't complain at the initial moment of delivery I must add that Ian and I were not here and that it was Mrs. King who had the 'joy' of dealing with Canada's Worst Delivery Ma. She questioned the size to which the mattress cretin said "Well I can't do anything about it". It seems we would have to magic up the mattress delivery fairies. Mind you it did feel good yelling down the phone at a store representative. Deeeelightful. I like yelling.