Motherluxe has come to stay… Indefinitely! She moved in 52 hours ago – or for her, 9 Merlots and 30 Marlboro lights ago
Her northern pile is sold and I’ve cajoled her into moving 300 miles down south so we can ‘be closer’. Brave. Yes. Fierce. Definately. She’s one tough cookie so Sussex be warned.
She arrived Friday evening with nothing more than her LV carry on and her Esso kit bag (she likes to mix things up). Everything else she’s shifted to a storage unit run by nuns in the midlands – I’m not making it up.
We broke her in gently, the first evening I steered her to the important stuff – the wine cellar, Boo’s closet and the crisp cupboard..
She made herself at home rehanging my Massimo Vitali’s with her glow in the dark spirit level – Mr Luxe observing gratefully . Unimpressed with his tool box, she presented him with all her diy paraphernalia – gleaming with pride. There was even an axe
That was yesterday
We’re now second sundown in, just call me teenageluxe – I’m grumpy at the thought of pouring my own tea. I think I just whatsapp’d her for a slice of toast! I’ve forgotten how to make/do or find my own Anything! #hatemylife
And I’ve been usurped
She’s set up shop as Boo’s maid in waiting! Duties include; an occasional bum scratch (boo’s bum btw), periodic pooch parlour visits (he is white after all) and tummy tickles (Mr. Luxe enjoys them too but that’s for another post!)
Embracing all things northern, I’ve surrendered to my sliced bread ban and Mr. Luxe has been out shopping for a super duper toaster – pebble dashed bread to follow.
Unsurprisingly, our once barren fridge is now fit for an episode of cribs. Veuve bottles line the door with the odd ski yoghurt ‘keeping it real’. Motherluxe doesn’t cook!
Fortunately, neither do I!
