My dream mansion is really a city flat.

Allergy season has hit again.


I think I’ll head to the beach today so I can pop my eyeballs out and roll them in the sand to get the pollen off.   Then a good rinse in the ocean should clean them right up.  Does anyone know what happens to you when you take more than the recommended daily dose of anti-histamines?  Because to me they are like Pez.

Oozing facial orifices aside, things have been pretty great these days.  Mom’s visit is going well (we had a lovely day in Amsterdam yesterday), I’ve been busy putting together the next OperaDans show, SJAH (coming in October if all the stars align correctly), and I’m really loving the new apartment.

I’m actually surprised at how much I like the new place.  I can admit to you now that I was really nervous about moving.  Yes, I was excited about us finally having our own place where we could paint and wallpaper and drill holes to our heart’s content (I’m drilling as I type).  But the new apartment is also 20 square meters smaller than the last place.  And the view looks out onto a wall of apartments in the front and a parking lot in the back.  Not an inspiring landscape.


The place is ours.

The kitchen is small but modern and everything works the way it’s supposed to.


The living room is spacious and my blue butterfly wallpaper makes me happy.  Even happier when singing students come in and squeal “Ooh! BLUE!” and I say, “I KNOW!”

Living area

Ok, I’ll be happier still when I go back and colour in the white lines where the wall shows through… why didn’t anyone tell me to paint the wall dark blue BEFORE I papered?  Ugh.  Now I have to find a microscopic paint brush.


The bathroom and toilet are roomy (for Holland.  And yes, they are separate rooms), but they really do need new tiles.  A project for the future.

The two bedrooms are actually bigger than in our last place.

Ok, the cat is going a bit squirrely because she doesn’t have any stairs to fly up and down, but she has discovered that another cat lives in the apartment across the street.  So they sit in their respective windows and do sign language.  And plot.  As cats do.

And she’s also found a nice little nest for herself.

Cleo at home

Actually, despite my fear, having a smaller place suits me just fine.  I’m not a fan of housework on the best of days.  Like honestly, “vacuum” is right up there with “have a colposcopy” on my Things I’d Rather Not Do Today list.  But the new place is small enough that I don’t feel overwhelmed by the thought of cleaning it.  I can manage.

Which makes me realise that my girlish dream of living in a giant three-story house with five bedrooms, a hot tub and a tennis court was really a crock of Barbie’s Dream House crap.  Ok, I’d like to be able to look out onto a bit of green, but we have the benefit of being RIGHT THERE in the centre of things: cafes, shops, restaurants, bars, parks, groceries all literally just around the corner.  Did you know that Barbie has a Dream Refrigerator?  Note the lack of chilled gin and freshly cut limes.


That’s no dream.

Dartmouth afternoon

The Lovechild of X-Men and Futurama