Reportage on the weekendage that occured seven days ago

Last Saturday afternoon the Baron and I bought a house. That's good news, true, but even worse than that - it's embarrassing news. How am I going to admit it to everybody? Friends are visiting from Perth at the moment; I still haven't broken the news to them. Perhaps if we break it to them gently - sit them down, speak in very calming and reassuring voices - everything will be all right. Even so, admitting to something like this creates a certain expectation: every time they visit from now on, they'll be expecting a new dramatic announcement, like, 'oh, we bought the royal yacht', or, 'oh, we've opened up an antique wig emporium', or, 'by the way, I am wearing gold-laced underwear'. So you see the embarrassment inherent in the situation.

But anyway, house-buying! Who would have thought this was going to happen, hey? When we were tromping around Lalor, going to other auctions (we went to three auctions on the day), I was secretly afraid that we would accidentally bid for a house, and accidentally buy it. (You know, by unintentionally chewing our thumb* in a way that the real estate agent would construe as a $1 million bid, or something like that. I'm sure it's happened before.) Accidentally buying a house would be rather expensive. And of course embarrassing. Even more embarrassing and accidental than intentionally buying a house and then accidentally admitting to it, say, on a blog. Hmmm.

***

Let me rephrase this post.

Last Sunday morning I accidentally stepped in something the cat puked on the carpet. It put certain matters of a general nature neatly into perspective.

*Yes, we have only one thumb between us. We share. Sharing is caring.