Haven't updated for a few days, things have been busy-busy! This week has involved organising a whole bunch of stuff and I'm relieved to say I managed to sort it all out without dropping a single ball. I also squeezed in time to see 'Iron Man' (excellent) at the movies with Joe, and 'Keating: The Musical' (AMAZING!) at the theatre with Joe, Hammond and Kelly. We were the youngest people there by a decade and also the most underdressed. We kept getting odd looks. Also, there was a guy sitting two rows in front of us who was a dead ringer for Joe with +10 years and +10 kilograms. Heehee. Joe carefully avoided him because sources say that if you ever actually meet your own doppelganger, one or both of you will vanish.

Last night Joey and I finally got the chance to just relax, so Joey put fresh sheets on the bed, I cooked kangaroo steaks and veggies for dinner and then we cuddled on the couch and watched some Invader Zim (thanks Hammond! Thammond.)

The big news around here is that apparently the real estate rejected our lease back in March because one of the names on it was wrong. They did not inform us of the rejection in writing, which means we can probably contest it if we want to. What this means is that we've unknowingly been on a periodical lease instead of a proper lease for the past few months, and until we sign their new lease, which raises the rent ANOTHER $20/wk, the rules of the game are a little different. One of those rules being, of course, that the real estate can hike up the rent literally whenever they please, which is what they've just done.

Neither Joe or I is inclined to accept this second rent-hike, given that it's less than two months on the tail of the previous one and, let's face it, this house is hardly the Ritz. Given that we both work on the other side of the river now, the location is no longer ideal for us. And finally, given that the real estate is using our periodical-lease status to swing their dick around and inflate the rent, we won't feel too bad about using the periodical rules right back at them by giving them a mere (yet legal) two weeks notice and pissing off for a better place.

We're inspecting a place in Indooroo on Saturday. It's three bedrooms, cat-friendly (!!!), pretty much right on the river in a quiet, safe bushy setting, and would allow us both to walk to work. My walk would be just under an hour each way, which is PERFECT for me. Dayum, but I get so toned and hawt when I do two hours of cardio per day! Joe's walk would be shorter, or he can take a bus that will deliver him basically to his workplace's front door. He'll also be able to walk or bus to uni in far less time than he currently does.

The real sell-point is the rarity of a place which not only allows, but encourages, pet-owners to apply. The house itself looks quite old in the photos, but no worse than what we're living in now, and in a much nicer setting. Google Maps tells us it's not close to any major roads, so finally, FINALLY I can let my cats be indoor/outdoor kitties... with collars, bells and address tags additional to their implanted ID chips, of course. The only one who has any kind of innate hunting ability whatsoever is Jangles, but better safe than sorry. I saw my old childhood cat Bonny kill more than one wildbird when I was a kid and I don't want to hold another pretty bird in my hands and watch it gasp its last breath ever, ever again. :\

The other advantage of outdoor-approved kitties is, of course, the fact that nature takes care of pewps. Oh, and there's also a nice riverside park just a few houses down the road.

We wanted to take Kelly with us, but the location isn't practical for her due to the extra travel distance to her uni. Sadfats. :( She's a great flatmate and friend (and Bunnies card partner) that I know we won't be able to find anyone else who even comes close, and will miss her cheerfulness greatly. So will the kitties!

So, if we get the place, we will be looking for one flatmate to knock our rent down a little. In that case I'll be paying $125/wk for the master bedroom, whoever takes the second-biggest room will pay $115/wk, and the third-biggest room-dweller will pay $110/wk. This is less than what we'll each be paying at Bond Street if we stay, once the rent increase hits (or when Ben moves out, which will happen first). I have a full household of furniture so we'd probably be looking for a student who doesn't have furniture of their own and just wants to move somewhere that's already all set up.

It'd be ideal for a UQ student. If you know anyone who is attending UQ and looking for a place, please let me know. Unless this place has a serious defect, we'll be applying after the inspection on Saturday, with a potential move-date of two weeks later. On my current salary, and with me making the (unrequested) additional offer to pay a pet bond, I think we have a reasonable chance of getting the place. Also, given that it's more out-of-the-way than most properties, I don't think there'll be as much competition for it as we used to see in West End, East Brisbane et al.

Our current flatmates are individually making their decisions about whether to stay on at Bond Street and get in new flatmates, or all move on themselves. Ben was already thinking about leaving to become a carer for his brother, which was part of the reason Joe and I decided to start looking for a new place - I spent so long finding Ben to be the 5th flatmate that I'm not keen to go through it all again.

Moving is always a pain, but in this case, worth it, I think. I'm tired of keeping the cats a secret. I don't like hiding things from the real estate, it causes tension and I hate the sticky feel of dishonesty. Finding a 'Pets OK' place in Brisbane's current rental climate is nothing short of a freaking miracle.

Wish us luck that it's a decent house and that we can land it; with a 1% vacancy rate in this city, we're going to need all the luck we can get!

The title is an Aussie in-joke, the entry that follows was yoinked from snapesgirl34; and I edited one point because it had an error:

To the citizens of the United States of America from Her Sovereign Majesty Queen Elizabeth II:


In light of your failure in recent years to nominate competent candidates for President of the USA and thus to govern yourselves, we hereby give notice of the revocation of your independence, effective immediately.

Her Sovereign Majesty Queen Elizabeth II will resume monarchical duties over all states, commonwealths, and territories (except Kansas, which she does not fancy).

Your new Prime Minister, Gordon Brown, will appoint a Governor for America without the need for further elections.

Congress and the Senate will be disbanded.

A questionnaire may be circulated next year to determine whether any of you noticed.

To aid in the transition to a British Crown Dependency, the following rules are introduced with immediate effect:

(You should look up 'revocation' in the Oxford English Dictionary)

1. Then look up aluminium, and check the pronunciation guide. You will be amazed at just how wrongly you have been pronouncing it.

2. The letter 'U' will be reinstated in words such as 'colour', 'favour', 'labour' and neighbour.' Likewise, you will learn to spell 'doughnut' without skipping half the letters, and the suffix '-ize' will be replaced by the suffix '-ise'. Generally, you will be expected to raise your vocabulary to acceptable levels. (look up 'vocabulary').

3. Using the same twenty-seven words interspersed with filler noises such as 'like' and 'you know' is an unacceptable and inefficient form of communication. There is no such thing as US English. We will let M*crosoft know on your behalf. The M*crosoft spell-checker will be adjusted to take into account the reinstated letter 'u' and the elimination of -ize.

4. July 4th will no longer be celebrated as a holiday.

5. You will learn to resolve personal issues without using guns, lawyers, or therapists. The fact that you need so many lawyers and therapists shows that you're not quite ready to be independent. Guns should only be used for shooting grouse. If you can't sort things out without suing someone or speaking to a therapist then you're not ready to shoot grouse.

6. Therefore, you will no longer be allowed to own or carry anything more dangerous than a vegetable peeler. Although a permit will be required if you wish to carry a vegetable peeler in public.

7. All intersections will be replaced with roundabouts, and you will start driving on the left side of the road with immediate effect. At the same time, you will go metric with immediate effect and without the benefit of conversion tables. Both roundabouts and metrication will help you understand the British sense of humour.

8. The Former USA will adopt UK prices on petrol (which you have been calling gasoline) of roughly $10/US gallon. Get used to it.

9. You will learn to make real chips. Those things you call French fries are not real chips, and those things you insist on calling potato chips are properly called crisps. Real chips are thick cut, fried in animal fat, and dressed not with catsup but with vinegar.

10. The cold tasteless stuff you insist on calling beer is not actually beer at all. Henceforth, only proper British Bitter will be referred to as beer, and European brews of known and accepted provenance will be referred to as Lager.
South African beer is also acceptable as they are pound for pound the greatest sporting Nation on earth and it can only be due to the beer. They are also part of the British Commonwealth - see what it did for them.
American brands will be referred to as Near-Frozen Gnat's Urine, so that all can be sold without risk of further confusion.

11. Hollywood will be required occasionally to cast English actors as good guys. Hollywood will also be required to cast English actors to play English characters.

12. You will cease playing American football. There is only one kind of proper football; you call it soccer. Those of you brave enough will, in time, be allowed to play rugby (which has some similarities to American football, but does not involve stopping for a rest every twenty seconds or wearing full Kevlar body armour like a bunch of nancies). Don't try Rugby - the South Africans and Kiwis will thrash you, like they regularly thrash us.

13. Further, you will stop playing baseball. It is not reasonable to host an event called the World Series for a game which is barely played outside of America. Since only 2.1% of you are aware there is a world beyond your borders, your error is understandable. You will learn cricket, and we will let you face the South Africans first to take the sting out of their deliveries.

14. You must tell us who killed JFK. It's been driving us mad. We will help Iran with their Nuclear Programme.

15. An internal revenue agent (i.e. tax collector) from Her Majesty's Government will be with you shortly to ensure the acquisition of all monies due (backdated to 1776).

16. Daily Tea Time begins promptly at 4 pm with proper cups, with saucers, and never mugs, with high quality biscuits (cookies) and cakes; plus strawberries (with cream) when in season.

God Save the Queen!

PS: Go ahead and share this with your friends in the USA (those with a good sense of humour and NOT humor.)

Ebay overturned the Unpaid Item Strike. :) I can only hope the real estate situation can be worked out as quickly.

In the last entry I forgot to mention some of the good stuff that has happened, like the mini roadtrip taken by Hammond, Adders, Joey, Kelly and I to meet Izzy, the potential adoptee-kitten for the boys. She made an instant good impression and the boys took her home. It took Kelly and I about five minutes to make the "Izzy has two daddies" joke... in unison...

On the way back we stopped at the Confectionery Warehouse near the airport and I waited in the car with Izzy while everyone else went to buy stuff. A tour bus was parked outside and I was slightly mortified to see that every last person getting on it, laden down with bags of sweet stuff, was enormously fat. Not just some, or many, but ALL of them. Not just pudgy, or curvaceous, but obese. As the bus pulled out, I glimpsed one particularly wobbly woman sitting inside the window, licking and sucking at her fingers. It was a bit like watching a bus full of puffing smokers pulling out of the Winfields parking lot; it caused a mixture of feelings - empathy, irritation, guilt - which I still haven't untangled.

I'm currently rooting through all my old boxes of stuff in an attempt to halve my storage needs by throwing out or giving away anything I don't need to keep. Wish me luck! I'm being a little slowed down by the fact that two of the heaviest boxes are downstairs, Joe is asleep and I can't get them up the stairs alone. Fail!

There's no Tuesday night get-together this week, locals, because on Wednesday night we're going to see 'KEATING: The Musical'! More plans for meeting times / places will be posted on the Tuesday Club community. :)

So it's been a stressful couple of days. Small incidents aside, the two major stress factors were:

Ebay - I've just received an Unpaid Item strike... because the seller would not allow me to pay for the item. Same seller from a couple of entries back, yep. I'm contesting the strike and will probably win as I kept full email records of everything, but the seller won't know when I've won. Oh woe, my unfulfilled sense of vengeance! ;P He'll just go on being a douche until he's a douche to the Wrong Person, who will then kick his head in. I wish I were a huge bald biker, as that would make me the Wrong Person, and I'd get quite a 'kick' out of crushing some skulls.

Real Estate - sent us a new lease to sign. Upon closer inspection we realised they're trying to sneak a SECOND $20/week rent hike past us. Aside from breaking a whole slew of laws (including not giving ten days notice in writing) the last rent hike was less than two months ago, so... methinks there's grounds for contesting the move right there. Action taken: lots of "aargh"ing and fist-shaking, followed by a lengthy email to my old friend Shayle at the RTA. Shayle and I have taken on dodgy real estates and won before.

What scares me is that in battling this real estate I may damage my relationship with them to the point where they'll just find an excuse to get us out of here when our lease ends in February 2009. With the vacancy rate in Brisbane at less than 1%, the five people living here are all going to have serious trouble finding somewhere new to go to. But that's thinking way ahead... one problem at a time, eh?

Aside from that it's been a nice weekend, with heaps more space downstairs due to Chris moving out, Joe and I clearing out the storage container once and for all (goodbye, unnecessary monthly cost!), visiting Joey's parents and playing an extremely non-sober doubles game of pool with them, and attending the Northern Busway open day with Joey and Hammond (and receiving free Krispy Kremes!). I'm exhausted though, and looking forward to the public holiday tomorrow for a day of rest and slow-paced house tidying.

Now, downstairs to watch terrible horror movies with Joe. We have full use of the TV area down there now... bliss!!

Good news, everyone! (NOTE my fitting use of the Professor icon! Thank you... now moving on...)

First, I found someone travelling from Sydney to Brissie who is willing to do that pickup and delivery for me, and for no more than the cost of fuel, which is half of what the cheapest backload removal service quoted;

And secondly, an old favourite freelance client of mine approached me with a simple character creation offer which is going to net me enough money to take care of my remaining debt. It's also the sort of thing I can chip away at in the slow times at work - I've seen Johnny doing the same with some of his freelance.

Thirdly, I believe the real estate issue is now Sorted.

This more than makes up for yesterday when, to top off a stressful day, the bank was closed before the website said it should be, I forgot my receipt to take to Medicare, and the bus home was running a quarter of an hour late, which doesn't sound like much but is definitely a lot when you're exhausted and grumpy from One Of Those Days.

Today my coworkers have strongarmed me into going to Rosa's place when we finish work at 3pm to play Mario Kart on the Wii. Then I'm going to get myself down to Medicare and the bank, get all that crap sorted, and get to Joe's work by 5. Tonight we'll be going to his parents farm, tomorrow we're picking up a couple of chairs to supplement the Tiny!Couch we'll be left with when Chris is gone on the weekend, and then relaxing until Sunday when we're doing the Krispy Kreme / new Busway tunnel exploration adventure with Hammond and Adders. And I'll do it all with absolutely nothing weighing on my mind because I took care of it all today.

AND IT'S A LONG WEEKEND. Awesome!

[EDIT] Joe just sent me a video of Jangles and Sawyer. At first I thought it was a photo, and it showed the two of them lying on their sides, legs toward each other, sharing a narrow beam of sunlight. I thought, "how cute, they're sharing!" and then hit 'Play'. Jangles poked Sawyer. Sawyer poked Jangles. The two regarded one another with lazy caution, still on their sides. Sawyer kicked Jangles. Jangles lost his shit and leaped on top of him, chewing frantically. Joe tells me it ended with Jangles poking his tongue out at Sawyer. Oh, and neither of them are in the sunbeam by the end of the vid.

http://www.housesforthehomeless.com.au/

For every person who visits that link today and clicks the red button on the right, RealEstate.com.au will donate a dollar to the House for the Homeless project, up to a value of $100,000. It's only up to $45K so far, so there's still plenty of room for more!

Writing a condescending email criticising the behaviour and judgement of the person who is about to help you move house this coming weekend - probably not the smartest move ever.

However, that's not the douchiest behaviour I've faced today. THAT undesirable prize goes to Alex of Metrocity Realty, who threatened to kick us out because after all this time she checked their records and couldn't find Kim's old tenant application form. So she assumed he never handed one in. When I very politely pointed out that, well, four of us other tenants were THERE WHEN HE DID IT, I was told that this was a Serious Situation and Not Fun And Games, and I was threatened with eviction.

Now, I know enough QLD tenancy law to know that threat for the bullshit it is, but I still strongly object to the condescending tone and to the continual practice of real estates to act like douches in the assumption that us dumb little tenants don't know our rights!

HURR, WE CANT BE SMRT! WE DONT OWNS PROPERTY!! LOL LOL LOL...

It's probably just the first stirrings of this month's PMS, but that stuff got to me today like Stuff hasn't Got To Me in quite some time. Good god, did I ever have to excercise the ol' self-control muscle to keep from writing an angry reply to Alex's last email. Instead I ignored it: I'd given Kim the paperwork to RE-fill out and he took it into the real estate today, so problem damn well solved.

So why do I still want to kill something? That there's gotta be the PMS. And instead of going home now and chilling out with my boy I'm going to leave at 6, tramp over to Indro, deal with beauracracy at Medicare (but I can't be pissed because, y'know, bless our medical system for giving my moneys back every time) and deal with the bank, where I CAN be pissed because... well, you all know banks. Enough said.

Anyone travelling from Sydney to Brisbane by car within the next month?

(I accidentally typed 'cat' instead of 'car'. Ahhh, cat. The only way to travel.)

For most of my life I've had an irrational fear of vomiting. This is called Emetophobia and probably arises from the fact that my tough little bod doesn't succumb to illness often. Between the ages of four and twenty-four I'd only actually vomited twice. Both times were pretty traumatic: one an embarrassingly public and highly memorable incident in my first year of school, the other a painful food-poisoning bout at age thirteen. So vomiting was this powerful and mysterious thing my body did once every decade or so. It was no wonder I never felt comfortable with it; I never got the chance to get used to it.

Somehow this grew into a phobia that began to interfere with my life: if a partner was sick I would avoid them rather than help out; if someone was sick on a carnival ride I'd feel unnerved and uncomfortable for the rest of the day, and if I started feeling ill myself I'd spend hours lying on cold tiles hauling out every anti-vomit trick in the books (icy cold water on a flannel to the back of the neck is almost supernaturally effective) to avoid the dreaded specter of puking.

When a fear interferes with everyday life to that extent it's time for it to go. At twenty-four I got ridiculously drunk at my mum's birthday party (this entry does not highlight my finest moments, I'm afraid) and woke up in the middle of the night to throw up violently in the bathroom, back-patting supplied by Joe... and fairly enough, as I attribute at least 60% of the responsibility for that incident to him and the wormwood extract he put in my drinks. Seriously, who does that? Seriously!

Anyway, though I knew I wanted to work on chipping away the ol' phobia at the time, I was too bloody drunk to take any valuable lessons away from the experience, except for the knowledge that throwing up doesn't suck so hard when you're really smashed. So I just promised myself I'd be more even-headed about it from now on, that it's Not The End Of The World, and If You Really Must Throw Up, Just Get It Over With. And other such Sensibly Capitalised Ideas.

So recently we were at Dreamworld and after about ten of the fastest, meanest rides in the place, Joe decided to decorate one of the gardens with his stomach contents. To my immense and inappropriate glee, I was totally fine with the incident and petted him on the back ("a little patronisingly," he critiqued afterwards) the whole time.

Fast-forward to Sunday, when I came down with some sort of Mystery Bug that masqueraded as a cold until about 3am, when I woke up from feverish dreams of Katamari Damacy with a strong suspicion that tonight was the night I would Face My Fears. Equipped with a bucket (I kept thinking of the Lolrus, which made it more fun) I went downstairs to spare my flatmates the potential sounds. I lay on the cold tiles out of habit and the cats surrounded me, cheering me on... though that last part might not have happened, I was still a wee bit feverish. I opened the door to allow a cool night breeze in and felt that there was some ceremony about it all.

And then I threw up, repeatedly! This I will leave to your imagination, but it was effective, mess-free and there was a minimum of fuss and bother: it was a damn fine vomit. After some tidying and tooth-brushing I returned to bed, tapped Joe on the shoulder and proudly announced, "I threw up! A lot!" And he was all worried and stuff. Aww. But no concern was needed, for I am a vomiting champion! And with that, I believe I have laid the old phobia to rest.

Now if that's not looking on the bright side, I don't know what the hell is. :D

I won an auction for a table-and-chairs set to replace the one Chris and Jess will be taking when they leave. However, as Joe and I are unable to borrow his parents van this weekend, I contacted the seller to request that I pick the item up next weekend - 7 days from now.

The seller has responded "sorry but my policy is pickup within 5 days, if you can't do that I will relist the item".

Surprised, I checked the listing, as I never would have bid on something with pickup conditions that strict. Sure enough, nowhere in the description do they say "5 days". The closest they come is stating that they want the item moved as soon as possible, as they need space. I don't think 7 days is an unreasonable amount of time, and as far as I'm concerned that IS as soon as I can possibly do it - without the van it won't happen.

I have a 100% perfect feedback score on Ebay and I'm concerned that this douche seller is going to relist an item that I won, AND leave me negative feedback, on the basis of me not adhering to a condition that they didn't specify in the auction terms.

I've sent them a gentle reminder of that last point in an Ebay message, but if they respond negatively, what options are open to me?

I'm going to tell you something I haven't told you before.

Last night after work I saw the therapist, Wade, for the last time. In our previous session he'd said he felt I didn't need to come anymore, but that I could continue on in a Life Coaching capacity if I wished, so that's what this one was - but towards the end of the session he told me simply that I didn't need to be there, that he felt I had my life and my relationships as well thought through as any human being could hope for, and that further sessions would be unnecessary and possibly do harm rather than good (in other words, "if it ain't broke, don't fix it.")

My main regret from the past six months is what happened in Melbourne. I never wrote about it before but it marked the point where I slipped from reasonable grief at the end of a relationship, to depression. Elizabeth says it was sexual assault. I disagree. I think I was taken advantage of, sure - I was a visible wreck and he knew it; he was also at that time in a position of power over me as I depended on him for accommodation - but I never said no.

Then again, I never said no because at that point, on that night, I was far beyond caring what happened to me. I was so far beyond caring that I crept out much later, when I was sure he was asleep, ran down to the ocean and contemplated swimming out until I'd gone too far to come back. I wish I could say that was hyperbole.

But the hardest part came even later, when I realised that I did indeed care, that it was too late to change it, and that laughing it off - which I attempted to do with some people - wasn't going to cut it.

Hmm... when I said above that I never said 'no', that's not entirely accurate. I said 'no' the three (count 'em) times that evening he tried to force me to do it without a condom. And he continued with unwanted touches and crap the whole remainder of the time I was in Melbourne. Uncharacteristically, instead of damn well standing up for myself, I just passively let it happen, I cared that little. Or maybe I felt on some level that I deserved it. Eh - what an asshole he was, and how short-sighted and stupid I was, short-sighted because I thought I would feel that broken forever, and stupid because I should have known better than that.

I take responsibility for what happened, but by the same token, I don't blame myself... or anyone. We were all just people doing what we thought was best for ourselves with the information we had at the time... even him. Don't get me wrong, it still affects me. I tear up when I think about it or talk about it; I'm tearing up a little now. But one thing Wade-the-therapist told me is that feeling sad when something bad happens is perfectly normal and, though it's not a pleasant emotion, it's necessary and it shouldn't be avoided. It should just be understood for what it is. It should be put in it's place. Feeling like the world has ended doesn't actually mean it HAS, and that needs to be kept in mind, always, no matter how untrue that logic feels.

I think I've put what happened in the right place in my head. I learned so much from all this and I don't think I've been happier and more stable at any point in my adult life, so the incident in Melbourne, however humiliating and saddening to look back on, was worth it... and so were the months of backlash that followed, when I did things that now make me kind of blink and think, "ye GODS, what the hell was I thinking?? UGH!!" Talk about impaired judgment. I can't change the choices I made but I can sure as heck never make those particular ones again.

Today was a public holiday for ANZAC Day. Hammond, Kelly and I went out for breakfast at the Gunshop Cafe, opened our new Killer Bunny decks and heard the jet fly over; later Joe and I played a few rounds, then we all played one massive round with Me, Kelly, Joey, Hammond and Adders. And that's pretty much all we did all day, so basically, it was a perfect day.

In other news, Chris and Jess are moving out next Saturday to their new couple-plus-baby sized flat; I'll be helping them move. Then Joe moves into their room. I've already bought a table-and-chairs set on Ebay to replace the one they'll be taking when they leave, and I'm going to get a TV and some kind of pantry and reorganise the living areas of the house on Sunday. I'm really looking forward to it, there's nothing like indulging the ol' nesting instinct.

Howdy folks - I'm hailing from work, where I've spent most of the day toying with feathers and metal shine in Photoshop. My brain and fingers need a break now so here comes an unnecessary journal entry, one that is more an open letter to myself than any kind of worthwhile update.

I haven't been updating much because there's nothing much to say - everything is going brilliantly. Sad truth of the matter is that I update this thing way more when I'm unhappy. It helps me find direction. At times when I'm rolling smoothly along an even, straight road free of potholes, I don't need that added help with direction, so I don't need this journal.

(I always read my Friends List though. I'm way too involved in most of your lives to stop now.)

Life's a bit of a juggling act at the best of times though, and the quiet times are the best ones to improve the areas where there's still room for improvement.

Anyway, the below is how I improve. Usually I do this in my head, but I'm a-gonna write it out today. It's a bit OCD, but for me, slicing life up into easily-managed chunks and creating plans for how to deal with each aspect really helps make it all seem more manageable.

- Social: 10/10! I'm happy with the amount of time I'm spending with the people I care about.
Action: Keep it rolling. :)

- Home Maintenence: 4/10. When 'Social' works well, 'Home' often suffers. Sometimes I put off tidying my room past the point of personal comfort (my room-tidiness standards skyrocketed when I was single and had loads of free time), and clutter in my personal space gets under my skin like pins and needles. The rest of the house is untidy too, but I don't anticipate being able to do much about it until Chris and Jess move out in a month, at which point we'll have lots more space downstairs and I can start looking at some storage solutions.
Action: Needs focus in 1 month.

- Weight: 5/10. This has always been a big one for me, as I put on weight really easily so I need to CONSTANTLY monitor myself in this area. The commute to my new job only requires 30 minutes to an hour of walking per day, not enough to meet my body's energy-use requirements for weight loss. So I'm hovering at a reasonable weight at the moment... but it's certainly not my best and I don't feel that I look as good as I could. I still fit my clothes which means it's not out of control; however, many of my smaller clothes are tight, which is how I know when it's time to clamp down on my eating habits and exercise. At my smallest I was 5 kilos lighter than this.
Action: Focus tightly on weight-loss for the next month to knock off a couple of kilos, then split attention between this and sorting out the house. Cut out coffee. Snack less. Walk more, even if it means getting up an hour earlier.

- Health: 7/10. As above, I could be getting more excercise - I'd be happiest with a minimum of an hour and a half every weekday. I also need to scrape together the funds to get a dental checkup, as I'm ridiculously overdue. I need to sort out the birth control issue (the Pill causes mood swings an