After 6 months of sharing a teeny tiny one bedroom apartment with my friend, I am finally moving out into a fabulous and spacious townhouse.

I’ve had a ball staying with my friend, but the level of disorganisation from sharing a space the size of a chicken coop, has relentlessly terrorised my psyche to the point where I found myself on the train today with one leg shaved, and the other unshaved. As a Beauty Editor en route to interviewing Beauty Writers for a magazine, this was indeed a heinous crime (ssssh, please don’t be spreading this around – it could be bad for my cred).

In my defence, I have spent the past 6 months living in an apartment where the walls feel like they are constantly caving in on me. Storing ANY of my beauty product in the tiny bathroom cabinet mirrored door thingy circa 1970 was futile (there was just enough room for his razor, and, ahem, condoms, let alone my tampons or lipstick) so I had to make myself a makeshift beauty cabinet from an upturned plastic box inside his already small wardrobe. My clothes have been shoved stored in whatever nook or cranny I could find.

Mornings have usually been spent rummaging through boxes for a clean pair of knickers or a missing shoe, resulting in me racing out the door feeling (and more than likely looking) like something the cat dragged in. Needless to say, this has not been conducive to being a fully functioning member of society.

I could have had a meltdown over it long ago – hell, I am sure the sheer frustration would have even warranted a fully fledged breakdown at some point (the time I couldn’t find my USB key with the back up of my book after my computer crashed was particularly hairy), but when faced with a difficult situation, nine times out of ten, I go into auto pilot and display the endurance of an African marathon runner, and just get on with it doing the best that I can until I reach the finish line.

Actually, all in all, I have a lot of great memories here and there’s been plenty of side splitting laughter. I think he’s actually going to miss having me around, although I am sure his separation anxiety will be short lived as he starts to revel in not having to share his bed with me, and I will actually miss living here too, well, for about 5 minutes when I realise, oh crap, I have to cook my own meals, but then hop on the phone and sign up for Lite and Easy to deliver them to my door. Seriously, my friend has been a real gem taking me in whilst I was house hunting, and I have been ever so grateful.

However, I am definitely at the end of my organisational tether. No longer can I operate in such a state of disarray, and I am certain that today’s unshaved leg was just one step away from developing some kind of permanent nervous facial twitch, rendering me unable to hold a normal conversation without constantly blinking my right eye whilst my head darts to the right.

So it is with great joy that I will finally be moving into a new home. Can’t you just hear my beauty products and clothes singing for joy as they prepare to depart for fairer shores? My pretty things can happily take their place on shelves, my beauty product will have their own bathroom cabinets, and my clothes will look so beautiful draping from their hangers, that I am sure I will want to mount my wardrobe and make love to it.

The spaciousness of my new place, is surely going to leave me feeling like a princess in a castle – so if you don’t hear from me for a few days, it just means I am swanning about and luxuriating in my new abode in manner of Grace Kelly, and cracking a few celebratory bottles of vino with my new flatmate.

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