We went for a walk on the other side of the lake this afternoon. I stood at the water's edge while Stella swung back and forth on the squeaky metal frame of a long-removed swinging dustbin and watched a coot clumsily take flight just in front of me and thought no, surely not.
Surely this won't be my reality in just a couple of months time? Surely it is not conceivable that I will stand on my lawn with the lake at my feet and watch waterbirds take flight?
Husband asks me if I've started thinking about where our furniture will go in the new house. I haven't. Well I have and once I've placed the obvious - 3 beds and a hideously huge leather sofa - I stymie and choke, not being able to imagine for a moment what we'll do with everything else. The vintage filing cabinet? The dog's special chair? The truckload of art supplies?
I mean, it's not like we really even know what the place looks like. One viewing, just one, and a bunch of mediocre photos and some very conflicting memories ('What do you mean there's a GATE there??').
I mean, we didn't even open a kitchen cupboard to sniff inside and check for damp.We didn't turn on a tap, flick a light switch, we didn't pace out the lounge or check the window catches or flush the loo's.
We walked around in disbelief and wonder that such a place could really be ours, we stood at the lake and watched waterbirds take flight and grinned stupidly.
We went back inside and sold our soul to the devil for a lot of money to make it so.
On Sunday we'll see it again. Let's hope we don't freak the fuck out.