Today is the sixth day since we moved into our new house. I did write 5 days ago, but then life caught me and refused to release me.

You know, if any of you are reading this, please know this: I am not usually volunteering for doing housework. But this past week I found myself acting more like a busy housewife than a happy-go-lucky college student. And it irks me for some reason. As though it makes me different.

One of the main chores I found myself doing with fervor is laundry. Somehow or other, dirty laundry had piled up quite suddenly in the wake of the move and we found ourselves laden with two huge bags of dirty clothing that needs to be washed as soon as possible. So, for half a day, I find myself doing laundry, arguably one of the least favourite chore of mine.

Frantic searches for hangers, pegs and places to spread out the laundry. I feel quite like the harried housewife with tons of things to do. Then the kitchen has to be set up and everything packed neatly into place and everything must have a place. Then it is another trip back to the old house to get more of our things and then, arranging them in place.

Two weeks ago, I was most excited to move houses. Not anymore. Now, I am deathly tired of all the nonsense connected to house-moving and the short tempers that go with it.