Moving on up, We're moving on out.....

The only way is up, baby, for you and me now

I love you Candy Bag

My naughty little deserting husband returneth, and totally sweetened the blow of leaving me by bringing a new handbag home with him (for me - not him).  It's out of control crazy - but I love it, so he's totally off the hook.  I've also stopped driving for now and don't even have to catch taxis because my chauffeur is back.  All kerbside bins, and many Ethiopians throughout the city have all breathed a collective sign of relief.  Am I a pussy?  Of course.  Do I care?  Not so far.  The fact that I am alive and our car is intact takes over any feelings I may have been holding onto about inadequacy.

See - it's all about the cream trench

Talking of feelings relating to inadequacy, with the girls in Kindy - or "Gan"  pronounced "Gun",  I have been thinking about my new career path.  Naturally I have decided to live out my dream and become a spy.  Being in Israel, I'm sure there's some spying to be had in the near vicinity.  The only issue is, if I'm too gutless to drive to the shop and get milk, how the fuck am I going to carry out espionage across international borders?  It's true, I haven't thought about the logistics.  I have only given thought to the romantic image of standing on the corner of a dark coblestoned street in a cream trench coat (I have one ready to go) and a pair of sunglasses (3 suitable candidates to choose from here), with a hat.  I wait alone, poised with my coded identifier as the possible contact walks towards me.  I tentatively offer my rehearsed phrase - "The cherry blossoms are beautiful in April " and hopefully prepare for the response "How lovely the lagoon appears by moonlight".  When the correct answer comes, I relax my grip on my bone detailed hand-gun, snugly tucked away in my coat pocket.  Then I slip the secret disc to my fellow spy with my other hand, whisper "God speed to you Sir", and disappear discretely into the shadowy night.

Like I was never even there.......

Beware indeed

It's a satisfying daydream.  In reality I would probably have to have anal sex with really unattractive Arabs with hairy shoulders, and take pictures of messages on their iphones while they're asleep.  It doesn't sound good.  I would have to be toughened up a lot too - (especially in the arsehole region).  I'm sure there's some kind of spy course I could take - Spying 101 or perhaps I could read "Espionage For Dummies" or something.  At times like this, I imagine Chalks coming to pick me up from my spy training course and the administrators saying - "Oh, Emily's down in dungeon 3, you can pop down there if you like".  And there am I, chained up naked to a stone wall while one of the instructors throws buckets of icy cold water on me.  Chalks would be like "Honey are you Ok??????".... I'd be like "Yeah, yeah, totally fine - 3 buckets to go and an quick electrocution, I'll be up in about 15"........

Keep away from my anus, apeman

Perhaps not......What we actually have been doing a lot of lately is apartment searching.  Although we were told that finding an apartment in Tel Aviv is murder, we basically found one on the first look.  We viewed a second one for the sole reason of saying that we had looked at more than one - but it was pretty unappealing - some people's "style" really makes you question what on earth they had in mind for their home environment.  The light fitting alone burnt out my retinas, and it wasn't even switched on.  Therefore, we negotiated and agreed on a final contract for the first viewed one last week, and we sign for it in 2 days.  Piss easy.  I was trying to be all casual and nonchalant when we initially looked at it's glory, but every time the agent turned around I was mouthing " I LOOOOOVVVVVEEEEE It" behind his back to Chalks.  I did love it, and still do.  We move in on the old ball and chain's birthday.

The random bed room

It will be good to move out of our current apartment.  As far as Tel Aviv apartments go it's not bad.  Unusually clean for a start.  Decent location.  But the kid's room is a bit quirky.  It consists only of beds.  Three in a row taking up the entire room.  I commented on it when we first walked in.  But the agent acted like there was nothing going on with having a room made entirely of beds.  So I shut my trap.  The girls have been having fun in there.  A little too much fun I think.


When I used to put them to bed at night - there would be 10 mins of chatski and then it was lights out for both of them.  These days they roll around on the giant bed for about an hour before they finally drop off from complete exhaustion.  There's usually at least 3 brawls that have to be dealt with during that time.  Tonight's was particularly disturbing.  I heard Valli screaming and came in to find Cordi pressing a pillow into her face going "Sorry Valli, Sorry Valli".  It really was not the kind of thing you want to walk in on.  Child suffocation can only end badly for everyone.  Apparently Cordi had bit Valli on the nose and was attempting to muffle her screams......nice.  I think I have a child murderer on my hands.  Strange - I always though that if either of them was going to top the other one it would be Valli leading the murder rampage.  You live and learn......or don't.....depending on which side of the pillow you're on.

Valli takes revenge the next day

So we're moving out soon and into a place of our own - after all these years!!! Finally I will have a mattress devoid of strangers sweat stains and piles of dead skin that build up in layers of yellowing filth, being slowly feasted on by miniature skin eating bugs and grotty little scabies. Finally I will be able to make toast without having other people's 2 year old stale and burnt crumbs spilling out the bottom of the toaster every time I move it.  Finally I will be able to clean the drains in the bathroom without getting my fingers entangled in a rotting mass of strangers pubes.  And FINALLY I will able to clean the skids off the side of the toilet bowl without the tiny pieces of the previous tenant's water-logged poo poo and disintegrating toilet paper falling off the toilet brush onto the bathroom floor.  These are the things that really please.  I'm excited.  And even more excited that we get to fill the joint with all the presents that everyone gave us for our wedding in February - thanks for that by the way everyone, at least you are all good for something.

I know what I want in the bedroom

But of course we need to do some shopping for quite a few items still.  We've been visiting shop after shop of late, looking and searching for suitable items that we think we can live with.  It's kind of hard trying to imagine how you want the style of your future life to be when you haven't given it that much thought before.  I'd given thought to things I DIDN'T want - mainly while I was sitting on/lying on/standing on/using them.  But not so much thought to what I actually wanted instead.  Israelis are big on the Italian look.  Personally I don't like it.  Too flashy and too expensive.  We visited a design centre today and looked at heaps of overpriced items.  It's all about the moving mattress over here - do you know what I mean? - the mattress with the remote controlled machine in it  - kind of like a hospital bed.  It's a novelty, I'll give it that.  But I don't like it.  Who wants to be upright when they're asleep?  If you are too lazy to prop up with a couple of pillows when necessary, might I suggest that you need to take a long hard look at yourself.   Plus, I thought the defining feature of a bed was that it was flat. Am I wrong here?  We also discovered a furniture shop there that truly had to be seen to be believed.  It was the High Class Syrian Brothel Look (I think I just invented a new style of decor).  I tried to take pictures of the giant glass disco ball over the mirrored velvet puffy bed for your entertainment (and mine), but was banned and thus kicked out by the pimp shop manager.  Couldn't get a snap of the giant crystal swan either as I was ushered out.

Here's one of a giant silver horse I took somewhere else though

Can't you just imagine old Silver Beauty as the centrepiece of your lounge room?

We also went somewhere today that neither of us have ever been before - for moral reasons.  It's mainly because of despising the fact that almost every place we have ever stayed in - all around the world for the last ten years - has been decked out entirely in it's wares.......Mother Fucking IKEA.  As we went to walk in those yellow and blue doors, Chalky announced that he felt like he was losing his virginity for the very first time.  That nervous, anxious feeling, almost instinctively knowing you were going to like it too much, even though you knew you shouldn't.  It was for good reason that we had these trepidations.  That place is intoxicating.  It won us over immediately by the free hour of child minding offered by a grumpy looking employee on guard in front a huge room of toys, games and the largest ball pit I have ever laid eyes on.
 

Some grotty randoms

The kids were off without a glance (as usual), and we were on our own and loose in IKEA.  Although we felt physically ill whenever we spotted a familiar item - a doona cover, a chair, plastic baby high chairs, espresso cups etc - the pleasing bargain prices win you over in the end.  I get it, I finally get it.  My resistance has been worn down and I am reluctantly proud to admit that I am an IKEA Whore.  Why the fuck would anyone spend 800 bucks on a child's bed in some smancy design store when you can get 2 beds, a set of shelves, a wardrobe, a table, 2 chairs, a desk, a light, 2 full sets of bedding, a rug and a giant ladybird for the same price.  Fuck quality - they're 4 years old for gods sake - more is more.
 

I can't help it - I find this cute

The crockery section is also enticing, as are tables and chairs.....but the cushion area, the lounge room set ups, the rugs and the towels made me feel all cheap and dirty inside.  You have to learn when to say no.  How much is enough before you start to cheapen yourself with weird and twisted longing for perversity?  You must tear yourself away before it's too late.

So back to our new apartment.....It is 3 bedroom - so all you bastards who said you were coming to visit, you better move those butts and get over here.  I know I can now entice you by declaring that you will sleep on, and under, IKEA's finest wares.  And if that doesn't seal the deal, I might add that our spare bedroom actually doubles at the "safe room".  How's that for a dose of reality over this side of the world.  Most buildings and apartments have their own bomb shelter.  A reinforced room of impenetrable thick steel and other protective stuff.  Good news too if you're a brawling type of couple - you can scream and throw shit at your partner from the safety of inaccessible dwellings.  Stash some water and some canned peaches in there and you wouldn't need to come up for air until 2014. Even if your husband called the fire brigade they'd have issues cutting you out in time to make dinner. In fact you may never need to make dinner again.

I'm seriously going to have some fun with that room, I can feel it.

My new coffee table