Pyjamas with a fucking dragon on them

A little eeeeeeeeeee! today, readers, as I have just heard by phone (being at home nursing some brutal birch pollen misery) that my company would like to keep me on after the big move. I had persuaded myself it was win either way, and it was, to the degree that one part of my split self is mourning the things I already won't be able to do due to this fucking awesome win. But there's no doubt this is the winner win because now I can go be rich in Australia.

Not to mention work from home. Actually since Australia is just a vague concept to me I have to admit that in concrete terms mostly I'm excited about working from home, and being able to afford to buy a nice home to work in without shitting myself about the mortgage. I am going to make myself four or five sets of beautiful silk pyjamas to labour away at home in, oh, it's exciting. Paisley silk pyjamas. Or pyjamas with a fucking dragon on them! Yeah! And then there's the fact that the Asian aspect of what I'm doing journalistically at the moment is WAY more interesting than the European aspect.

And there's the fact that this way we get to go straight to the area we had in mind, which is semi-rural, without me shitting myself about finding a job somewhere without offices. Part of this big move is us being sick of cities, and respect to Sydney, Melbourne, Brisbane et al, but I'm fucked if I'd be excited about moving from one stinking sprawling city to another. I've been doing that all my adult life, and moving to the opposite side of the planet to do so doesn't float my boat.

And then there are all the other things. Things and possibilities too awesome that I don't dare blog about them here.

And as things rock, rock like crazy, and everything is win . . . as I type I feel the first nerves I've felt at the prospect. Not bad nerves though. Excited nerves, the sort of thing where it's not quite a frog in your throat, something rather more delicious, like, I don't know, some super hot guy's junk.

EEEEEEEEEEE!

is what I say.