I think our upstairs neighbours are having sex. Oh the horror. I'm going to have to relocate from the bedroom (directly beneath theirs) to the livingroom, and put on some music to drown them out.

That's better.

Suddenly, moving seems like a really good idea.

But next time we move I want to hire packers who'll box up everything for us, transport it, and place it neatly in the new home. We're doing it all ourselves this time around, and I can't say I'm enjoying the process. Saturday's going to be gruelling. Luckily these days Steve is big enough to count as another adult when it comes to moving the actual furniture, so that will help. I need to remember to be careful not to screw my back up again. It's been blissfully trouble-free for ages now, and I'd hate to reprise my can't-get-dressed-without-help-hurts-to-drive days.