Tuesday, May 22, 2012
The new place is bigger, has more space for Fletch to play, beautiful ocean views, 70s style bathrooms (hello mustard yellow toilet), a communal pool and a big open space downstairs for kids to play. But the best part? What I'm jumping out of my skin about? A balcony. Yes, a balcony. Which means a BBQ. Snap to that. I haven't lived in a house with any form of outdoor area since I moved out of my parents place as a 22 year old back in 2004. So this whole concept is such a treat for me. The thought of cracking a crisp glass of vino, digging into some brie and biscuits and sitting out there with my husband tong-mastering it up, and my little baby asleep inside, is as good a thought as any right now.
I will strategically ignore the fact that our apartment block may or may not also be beside a rather large cemetery. In fact, should you come to stay in the spare bedroom, you'll be able to blow a kiss goodnight to somewhere in the region of 46,800 headstones. Don't all rush at once.
We've got the professional movers coming on Friday and Saturday to pack everything up, dismantle all the furniture and move it across to our new place. It'd be near impossible doing it all yourself here, and there is literally a man for everything in HK. So why the hell not, I say?