I moved out of my place today and moved in with my parents for the five weeks before the wedding. I was getting kicked out of my granny flat so that the owner’s parents could move in, so I decided to take the opportunity to move back in with the family. It seems a nice way to say good-bye to unmarried life, end it back where it started.

Em pointed out the other day that now that I’ve moved out of the granny flat, I probably won’t live alone again for a very long time, if ever. That’s an odd thought. The introvert in me thinks that perhaps I may have just given up something very valuable. I hope I made the most of it. I hope I walked around in my undies enough, and did as little chores as I wanted, and cooked for one enough, and watched enough stupid TV. Em told me that I can no longer have wedges as my staple diet. That hurt. Living alone was good.

Still living with people is good. Living alone is easy. And maximum comfort. Everything is just how you like it. Living with others is richer. More work. Greater rewards. I guess I can live with that.

Also, Em said I can eat wedges once a week. So that’s pretty good.

Apologies for no blog post yesterday. I forgot. I was packing. I’m going to back date with a photo from packing that Em took so you probably won’t even notice.