The waining of enthusiasm

When you first buy a house, it’s exciting. The first eighty percent of boxes get unpacked, the fancy-smelling soaps get housed on their appropriate sinks and a new coffee machine takes pride of place on the carefully selected kitchen surface.

Weekends one and two are identified by the constant climbing stairs, unpacking, repacking and throwing out.

Then comes the rest. The joy of choosing curtains (I use the word “joy” loosely, but I hope the sentiment is understood) gets overtaken by the realisation that for every curtain you need a curtain rail, rawl plugs and endless hours in the DIY store. Light fittings need transformers and there’s a difference between wattage and voltage. Depending on who you speak to, your parquet flooring should either be treated with lots of wax or lots of water, or no water at all but a special soap that you can only buy in the Netherlands.

The bookshelves don’t build themselves and the procrastinating over spending thousands on massively-overpriced storage solutions means that every flat surface, including beds and floors, is used as a wardrobe.

I’m shutting my eyes and hoping that when I get back from my Christmas holidays, it will all have taken care of itself.