Made in Campsie

Not long ago - I cannot pin point exactly when -  my mum got fed up with my paying rent via the usual means (The usual means being a mutually agreed and unspoken contract which would see me providing my exclusive clown entertaining services and associated theatrics 24/7 in exchange for accommodation).  And so she took to charging me rent. I  acknowledge I have been deeply fortunate for my good run thus far and  truthfully, I was happy to pay rent as I believed  that this would be the much needed impetus to finally get my own place.



For those of you who know me, I've been speaking about getting my own place and doing it up for about 10 years. Those who know me also know I like talking a lot of shit, so I guess purchasing a unit did come as somewhat of a surprise to a few.

But here it is! My first apartment. It's kind of small and needs a lot of work, but it gets drenched in around-the-clock glorious sunshine and has great bones (some of which, admittedly,  I'm in the process of surgically removing - ha!).

And after sitting on my empty lounge floor and crying after the first, second and third visits,  I am now happy to report that since working on the unit, I'm growing to really love this place! I have so many grand visions for it ( In terms of a palette, I've been throwing around terms like "Scandinavian", "clean crisp lines" like any good proper designer wanker would). And while initially the prospect of renovating this place seemed daunting,  the process  has actually been really exciting and fun, but obviously not without its moments (more on that later).

And in unrelated renovation news:



Every now and then I like to see the types of  things people type into Google to  land on my page. Someone in the world - who I have deduced must be either be Mario or Luigi from Mario Bros has typed "how shutup[pa] my therapist". Okkkk. A little bit aggressive, hopefully they found something on the blog to help.