Living on tinned spaghetti

For those who know me know that I’m an equal opportunist. I tell our kids there’s nothing boys can do that girls can’t, and the only thing girls can do is have a baby. Saying all that, even though Hutch proposed to me, and he agreed to have kids, I probably started all of those conversations. Last year he finally got the chance to be the grown up. The house in our street that we’ve been watching for a while was up for auction. So we wandered down the road, plan in place and Hutch started the bidding. Not a huge amount of interest and he got to our budget reasonably quickly.  He stopped, it sold on the next bid and we shrugged our shoulders and walked home. Within 10 mins I had a message from the agent saying they’d hit a snag with the successful bidders and were we prepared to make a formal offer. Via text no less. So we raised our bid by a couple of grand and it was ours. We settle  after Easter and have spent numerous hours working out what we will do to it once we get it. That little piece of the world that we can call home. With a big fat mortgage.


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