I’d like to be sitting outside the Lord Nelson pub in The Rocks, Sydney, eating an exotic pizza and knocking back a few beers before strolling back down to Circular Quay to get a night bus home. Sadly, I’m sitting in a freezing flat in London wondering how long it will be before the landlord fixes the central heating and dreading yet another week at work.
I most want to be back in my own damn house. It’s to be inspected tomorrow, after being burned on December 11th. IF it passes (which please o god please please please let it pass!!) we’ll be out of this crackerbox of an apartment and back HOME.
There’s no place like home…there’s no place like home…there’s no place like home.
If “fairly reasonable but not strictly” is OK, then I’d rather be at the Renaissance Faire. But it would also have to be July, since it’s in Wisconsin, which brings that whole unrealistic thing back into play.
Realistically, I can’t go any damn where for awhile.