Trout begone! It could have been the fresh air or the scented candles or the baking soda, or maybe the troutstink was cancelled out by the bacon I cooked on Saturday morning. Pig covers fish in the animal version of animal paper-rock-scissors.
In other news, we have quite possibly sold our now pleasantly-scented flat. We might also have rented a wee house! Maybe! I'm permanently scarred by the recent financial shenanigans so despite positive signs like important, legally-binding papers and the buyer coming round last night to Measure Things Up, I won't believe it is actually going to happen until the closing date, two weeks from tomorrow.
We'd put the flat-selling on hold when the bank collapsed, but then we were approached by an interested person so we decided to go for gold. Buyers are hard to come by in these credit crunchy times. And with mortgage deals, interest rates and house prices are so wacky right now, we're just going to rent for awhile because we don't have any nerves left to rush into big decisions.
It also looks like our frozen savings might be defrosted by Christmas, but once again I'm not getting excited. I'm just crossing my fingers that we'll get to spend the holidays in this cosy wee rented house that has a gas hob and a garage and back yard! Sure, it has absolutely no storage whatsoever, but… GRASS, people!
It also has high ceilings which are perfect for skipping practice. I discovered at kickboxing last week that I can't skip for shit. I always boycotted skipping in primary school so never developed the skillz – even at seven years old, I thought I was too wobbly and uncoordinated to try. I'd love to go back and gently kick my paranoid ginger butt because it is bloody embarrassing being 31 years old and having to be instructed. Hands higher! Turn the rope faster! Jump! Jump!
But it's a bloody great workout so I want to improve. I bought a skipping rope last year and never used it due to low ceilings and lack of suitable outdoor space. Soon I'll be able to practice in the privacy of my own home. Give me time people. Soon I'll rock up to class and do a spectacular acrobatic skipping display and jaws will drop. Or at least I'll learn to turn the rope three times without whipping myself in the face.