"i've had the time of my life. . ."

Moving, moving, whoosh!
Moving can be so fun and you can spend hours on end trawling through sites looking for the best bargains to suit your budget (I have sworn I will not go mad). I think I am at least 30% better in bargain-hunting now. Apart from 50-cents clothes and books I was always so proud of in Sing, or the occasional amazing sales haul, I think I am stupendously bad in thinking what a good bargain is. I would pick out something that is 50% cheaper than I thought it would be, present it proudly to my gurlfriends, who would in turn find something even cheaper and. . well, I give up. Maybe it's a Singaporean thang--they give you the best money-saving tips ever lol. Or so I discovered when I moved here and befriended a handful of fellow locals. So I've been too excited I cannot sleep. This is bad. I look for stuff and realise, oh no, it's 4am, so I lay down. But you know how when you're awake life can be so wonderful you don't want to go to sleep (and when you're asleep you enjoy it so much you don't want to wake up!), I get up half an hour later and do more! The day has begun and it is a rare day when I see the sun rise so I dress up and go out and pick up stuff. I move on Friday so I want to set up most of the house over the weekend and therefore have gotten a complete game plan of how and where to store what, and assembled an array of things to deliver over to my current place so I can get crackin' immediately. You know, things like towels, incense, wall hangings and satin sheets. Except that posting suddenly seems slower than I remember. Which is getting me slightly worried.

animal instincts-- your feral feline fall lookbook with some equine thrown in

Today I spent some time trawling through my hard drive for photos of my cat, feeling in dire need of anything-feline. The first round of house-hunting that I did saw me more in love with the two black-and-white cats than the house, a behaviour I won't attempt to justify. Moving means that rather than have time to sort out my fall wardrobe (my second autumn ever!), I will be packing everything into boxes for Godknowshowlong. Bad idea. Whilst trying to sort out my visa and looking at a million and one interior design blogs, sketching out concepts on paper and in my head, drooling at scarlet sofas and damask chaise lounges. I'm one step closer to securing the cosy little place of my dreams, complete with an attic bedroom, even if it might be a little small. I think the housing agent was slightly amused as I was contemplating out loud where I'd keep my coats, shoes and books. "There's loads of space in the wardrobe" he said. "But you see, I have a lot of clothes", I replied. Pointing to some low-level shelving, he went, "That's ample space for shoes". "But you see, I have about 50 pairs over in England" (if you exclude the 2.5 and 3-inch boots meant for negotiating the Cambridge cobbles). And then I think he got even more amused listening to my phone conversation with D regarding head-bumping on a low ceiling and noise levels. I have to learn to stop being free entertainment to everyone. Once in a while, I envision myself as ladylike, feminine, calm and well-behaved like my cousins, and then it all comes to naught. How is it that we were all raised together and I turned out like that. Just the other day I had a huge spirited debate with D over how I am nothing demure (I hate that word-- it conjures up images of the epitome of subservient, mute and boring), although being ladylike and proper might be a different thing. Anyhows, fall. What better than animal print! I.e. my second skin. These shots of my cat sum it all up. She wriggled under my leopard-printed cape one day, and her ball was nearby. So I picked up a pair of zebra-print booties and my navy pumps, and voila. Your Feral Feline Fall Lookbook. With a little hint of pink.