Home is not where the heart is.
It’s where ever your big beautiful comfy king sized bed is.
And that’s not where I am at the moment. I’m back painting again at the new house, (we’re moving in next week) so my bed isn’t with me. And I didn’t think it would be possible to find anything more uncomfortable to sleep on than The Futon From Hell, but not only did I find it, I bought it. And I’m currently lying on it.
It’s a sofa lounge. We decided we needed a sofa lounge because we won’t have any spare rooms and so we bought a sofa lounge to put in the office. It’s a lovely lounge, but a really shitty bed. But it’s not the only reason I wake up exhausted. It seems that we have a monkey living in the ceiling. And he enjoys a game of tennis at about 2am. Then he has a bit of a rest before he does a spot of marathon training at 4am. It makes some mad noises up there. I was lying here the other night thinking WTF? I even sent my daughter Kimba a text saying – are you throwing a tennis ball against your wall? She wasn’t. So we’ve put some poison up there and hopefully we kill a giant rat and not a monkey or a possum or the next door neighbour Poppy’s cat.
The other day Daz and I were talking about the painting that still had to be done and he said – I think I’ll leave the gorilla there. And I thought wow, we’ve upgraded from a monkey to a gorilla. But then I remembered the ladder is called the gorilla.
It all reminded me of the kids book – There’s a Hippopotamus on Our Roof Eating Cake. That was a good read.