Moving. It’s been three days straight. My hair is sticking out at funny angles. My fingernails are wrecked to the quick. I’m covered in dust and tiredness. Everything I own is shutting out my beautiful new oak floor, forcing my mouth to both droop and spill the odd cackle. In this state, I could pass myself off as something unhinged for Halloween, but I think I’m better off hitting the bath. I’m sure, beneath the used paint tins, cardboard boxes and my treasured Brazilian saucepans, my new tub looks something like this guy.
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Image via here.