Moving, it's sucking the life force out of me. If, by life force, you mean money, and if by me, you mean my husband.
Sorry, Husband, I'm spending all your money because we've just moved.
Our shipment is still stuck somewhere in the vast and mysterious depths of Indonesian bureaucracy, so we're living with the contents of our suitcases, some pillaged toys, two borrowed pans, and a knife fashioned out of a horn, some intestines, and a stone cutter. We're making do. It's cool.
New country, voltages, and new plugs results in all new appliances. I forked over a nice chunk of change this weekend in exchange for a vacuum, an immersion blender, and a DVD player. I've also picked up in the last 24 hours, a car-load of pantry staples, some new tea towels, a dish rack (which !!!SF*#LD&#*@@~ZOMFG! cost about as much as a cute pair of flats), coasters, and some mason jars.
New couches need new pillows. New bathrooms need new organisation solutions, new walls need new adornments, new (sketchy) kitchens need titanium, bullet proof, impenetrable, totally airtight food storage containers.
Anyway, all of this to say, I feel like I'm bleeding money. Or, more aptly, my husband is hemorrhaging his hard-earned cash from a cut that I've inflicted (Shoe racks! We need shoe racks! Like neeeeeeeeeeeeeeeedddd or life will not continue. Also Turkish towels are a total necessity if you want me to go on breathing air and living life and stuff.) I have a lot of weird, uncomfortable, post-feminist guilt feelings about that.
TA DA! How's that for an uplifting blog post?
I will say, however, my Chef was totally stoked with my choice of vacuum. See, isn't she cute??