A few months ago, I wrote that Inspector Climate had a job interview for a job in Tasmania.
He didn't get it.
He got a better job – in Tasmania – instead.
My boss has said I can transfer offices and so, we're moving to Tassie, bitches.
(Bitches was just for emphasis...)
In fact, as this (wildly boring) blog post gets published, we're flying down to Tasmania to look at houses... to buy. We're not messing around, ladies and gentlemen, I can almost feel the kitty and puppy cuddles, they're so close!
It's... a bit unreal. The houses that we're looking at have established fruit trees, and a little land, and room for a dog, and some of them even have space for me to teach yoga on the side (I KNOW, right?).
It feels so grown up to be talking about buying a house. But it also feels a bit overwhelming to be considering leaving the city I've called home for the majority of my 20s. How will I make new friends? Will I finally have to drive on the left side of the road... by myself? What if I never see some of my favourite Melburnians again (Kirsti! You'll come visit, right?). What if? What if? What if?
Look out, Tassie, we're coming soon.