Moving Day

It’s moving day and I have the keys to our new house in my pocket. Which doesn’t stop me from being in trouble – as usual.

Besides the heinous crime of going to work to pay the rent on our new home today instead of being knee deep in boxes I find that I am responsible for my dear lady wife’s complete lack of nutritional input. Allow me to explain.

I got up with JFGP this morning, allowing SWMBO a precious extra half an hour or so in bed. I even took her a cup of tea to ease her into the day whilst I fed and played with the young boy. We left Reeve mansions and I drove us to Manly where we had to go the bank to get a cheque and then onto the real estate agent to sign the lease and pick up the keys to our new dwelling. Sadly I got my times wrong and we had to wait forty five minutes for the bank to open. We repaired to a nearby cafe where I had a flat white and my wife had her choice of the comestibles on offer. She had a latte.

Fast forward several hours and when I spoke to her she hadn’t had a chance to have lunch, but it was my fault that she hadn’t had any breakfast and was therefore perishing of starvation at the other end of the line.

I’m not even going to tell you about the lightweight jogging buggy I had to buy at the weekend. Because that wasn’t a luxury. Oh no. It was a necessity for any self respecting northen beaches dwelling young family. Apparently.