This morning I woke up in Carlton with dry lips, unsure of the whereabouts of my clothes and of the quickest way to get to work via public transport. My first morning in my new house. Who'd've thought that packing for three days straight and then shifting everything on the hottest day could suck the life out of your very lips, especially considering we were keeping hydrated with tea, coffee, beer and eventually whisky?
Our (mine and Adrian's) place in Carlton is a high point in both our housing histories. Albert Street just about fell down around our ears as we fled Abbotsford, and the junkies shook their fists and rattled their teeth.
