Domestic Bliss

I'm not at work today, and so I have just been pottering around putting things away, hanging up things that have been lying around, watering plants and so on. I love my flat. I've lived here for more than 10 years, and despite its creaking shabbiness, leaky roof etc (it's amazing how Zen you can be about these things when you don't actually own the place), it's a lovely place to be, especially on mornings like this when the sun comes through all the windows.

I don't understand people who can live out of rucksacks for months on end. I admire them, but I know I couldn't do it. I need my books, my clothes, my mug with the Victorian gardener on it. Most of all, I need my front door, and the lovely feeling that when it's closed, it's entirely up to me how much I interact with the world.

This post brought to you by Antisocial Old Bats Ltd.