It's been six weeks of stirring, opening half an eye, and then lying in bed for a disoriented minute or two wondering where on earth we are. It appears that it can take a little while for the brain to catch up with the body when moving house. It neither smells nor sounds quite like our home yet but each and every day, it feels more like where we're meant to be. The nights are a different matter, though ... the creeks and groans of an older house are going to take a bit more time, and waking up in a cold sweat, to get used to.
For the past few nights, I've been busy painting and glossing my littlest's bedroom ready for a change in furniture (he's losing a chest of drawers and gaining a much-requested desk) and because he has suddenly become more opinionated about what his room should look like. Just as the fumes from the gloss were sending me slightly dizzy, I suddenly remembered that I had this post sitting in my drafts folder and, as the room will soon look nothing like this, I should probably finish it off and share it with you.