The above sight makes me happier than I can tell you*. Despite a bit of a miserable day (thank you hormones) where I feel like I could weep, the grin still spreads across my face whenever I remember - I have a bath! A bath, of my own. After 18 months of being a total bath scav wherever I went. My friends were great and all volunteered their baths, but trailing round to your mate's with your towel and sponge just isn't the same as having your own bath, especially as the times I need a bath the most are the times I'm least able to get out and about.
The record so far is three baths in a day.
Like I said, the bath makes me very, very happy. So does the rest of my new flat. It's clean, new and there is soundproofing. I love the soundproofing. I love ChildSlave but ChildSlave loves to hang out at the bottom of the stairs, which, in my old flat were the other side of a bit of flimsy MDF. 11 year old girls aren't known for being quiet, especially if they are safely out of their parent's hearing and into someone else's.
The other bit of particularly good news is the slugs failed in their application for squatter's rights and have been left behind in the old flat. BendyCat is delighted as she feared the cat food loving slugs. She was however, less impressed with the move, although I wasn't sure if that was the actual moving or the fact that it was BendyVet and Ben doing the moving. I found moving, supposedly one of the most stressful life events, to be psychologically restful after several weeks attempting to fill out my DLA application.
I'm not sure if the hormones or the knowledge that I have to go back to finishing off my DLA form tomorrow was the cause of the pity party I had myself this morning when I thought my mobility scooter had gone kaput. Lovely Carer rode the mobility scooter she'd been storing for me here this morning, and had to phone to say she'd broken down. We weren't sure if it was the battery, some wheel affecting levery thing GangstaGuy had given a lecture that neither of us retained on, or a combination of both that caused the breakdown, but fortunately next door's teenage boy has managed to sort it all out and the scooter works. Woohoo! It even works enough to have transported both the teenage boy and I on a test drive so I'm sure it'll be much happier with just my weight to drag about. It's a good job really as I got myself into quite the state this morning when I remembered it was three years to the day that I wrote about missing out on a local event due to lack of appropriate mobility aid, and had myself a weep about how nothing had changed.
Then this afternoon as I sat in my front garden watching the Spitfire loop the loop I realised just how much things have changed in those three years. One neighbour passed by and offered to push me to the pub with them, another dropped in to see how I was getting on in the new flat, then the boy next door fixed the scooter for me.
Oh...and I have a bath...a bath! Which is where I'm headed now....
*Photo is of a bath filled with hot, bubbly water and a clear bath pillow with decorative purple feathers inside it.