My True Love is truly distressed, both by our imminent move (tomorrow) and by the strange events in the house recently (viz: brine on the carpet, shredded curtains, fusebox malfunction, and so much fish).
I am strangely calm, daily reciting messages of power from my new painting.
The cat is in kennels, sitting it out safely away from being packed into a removals van.
This evening, our last in the house, My True Love tenderly placed nine little wooden birds on the table in front of me. He stroked each one and nestled them into the tea cosy before rushing from the room, muttering about having something in his eye.
I found him later, curled up in a chair.
We sat, birds in hands, until the lights went out again.
Little comfort birds - you are indeed very comforting.
The whole 12 days saga here.