The simple life
The simple life

We are living simply, out of one room, and one bag of clothes.

We are staying at my mum’s place while Heart Daddy renovates – stripping twenty-five-year-old carpet and painting walls.

Although mum’s house is a shed, according to zoning, it has an industrial espresso machine, and two bathrooms. It’s not like we are camping. But I love that my wardrobe has been reduced to five items of clothes for each of us. Other than nappies for Heartlet, we don’t need more. I don’t have to rummage through mountains of second-hand clothes, deciding which outfit best suits my mood.

We have less books for Little Heart. Less toys.

I have convinced Little Heart I am unable to turn on the television (which is true), so she can’t sloth on the lounge watching countless episodes of Pananas in Pyjamas.

Laying together, Little Heart, Baby and me, on one bed, in one room, singing and chatting, I let go the sensation of impending doom provoked by boredom. Let it go.

Just be, easy and simple, three of us mooching the day away while daddy does all the hard work. Don’t mind this gig.

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