It was hard to come back home again: the cold, damp caravan and the confined spaces that we’ve now been living in for 18 months. The constant drizzle and rain is fairly depressing, and I am, once again, questioning myself. Why on earth did I choose to move to this place? I happen to like a bit of (quality) shopping and the alfresco dining at places like the Parade. I miss my family and friends more than I care to admit. I left a fairly good job and I wonder what possessed me to move next door to Antarctica, to start a new life, living in a couple of glorified shipping containers. No washing machine. It drives me crazy. I am losing interest in the chickens. This is strange because, for the last four or more years, I have loved my chickens. I have not knitted or crocheted anything in more than two months. People who know me well will know how bizarre that is for me: I always have at least on project on the go!

The builders I was raving about have been a bit of a no-show lately and our roof is still missing a hip on the East side. I am positive that with a better weather forecast for this week, the roof will be complete and we can start baling. We are desperate to move into our home; we have now resisted approximately twenty-three moments of contacting real-estate agents to find rental accommodation. The thought of paying rent is absurd to us, when we have a reasonable shelter on our property… It is hard. Very hard.

To top it off, I have come back to cold Tassie with flu like symptoms. I feel like merde. Honestly, if something good could happen to me right now, I’d be thankful.

Of course, good things happen to me frequently. I had a wonderful time back in Adelaide. I am so pleased that we made the trek over. I had the best time but did not get to see everybody I had wanted to (I’m sorry). Highlights for us were seeing lots of Amanda and Frances; catching up with our friends at Mothers’ Group; seeing my nanna again; seeing cousins Isaac, Lily, Allegra and Ayrton; going to the Railway Museum with the entire Goulding tribe (except Monte). We were also very pleased to be able to attend Monte’s parents’ 40th wedding anniversary party (Congratulations!). I really enjoyed staying at my parents’ house. It was a very special time.

And guess what! I am very close to understanding what my ‘dream kitchen’ is and we are close to knowing what to order! We almost feel certain about the layout: with the huge pantry and lots and lots of cupboards and drawers, we will be able to store enough crockery and napery and food for a small army! Or even a large one! We are looking into a few colour combinations and we have to incorporate the look of the slate floor and the rendered walls. I am getting quite close to designing the bathrooms and laundry now too.

I get this horrible sensation when I complain about our situation. Afterall, we chose to live here whilst we built. We don’t make bad financial decisions, although you can’t do everything for money. At least it’s a bit of an adventure. But where do I – or anybody – get off thinking that I ‘deserve’ an expensive ring, a luxurious car, an awesome washing machine – and why do I fret over the decision of granite or wood benchtops, slate or tiled bathroom floors or whether or not to have twin sinks in the bathroom!? Why do I stress about having 3/4 of my things in storage instead of having them at my fingertips? There are people who eat mud pies for breakfast. There are mothers who hold their babies as they are dying – whether from starvation, illness or bullet wounds. I have every blessing under the sun and I am attempting a bit of a struggle so I can be purely, truly grateful for what we take for granted: the things we don’t actually need.