What it feels like to win the lottery
We've finally made it to Mauritius to begin our new life in the tropics...
Dear Jasper,
Well, we made it. We’re in Mauritius, in our new home, which feels like a palace. As if we’ve struck gold. Won the lottery. More on that later.
The 12-hour flight here wasn’t nearly as bad as I feared, in that you slept for most of it; though I will never, ever, ever fly BA again. I’ve said that before and then I gave them one more chance and they cocked it up ERGAIN. I’m not going to get into the specifics because every time I do, my blood runs thick with rage prickles. And rage prickles are uncomfortable. BA has already supplied me with enough discomfort. FUCK YOU BA.
But as I was saying, we’re in our new villa (Huge! Four bedrooms! A waterfall! Sun deck! Coconut tree!) and life feels pretty amazing. The tiredness has just about faded, we’re adjusted to the climate (sunny, high 20s with a cool breeze - sublime) and although we still don’t have most of our stuff, which is stuck in customs, we have the essentials.
Best of all, we have a pool! Yesterday, Jasper, I took all my clothes off, jumped in, and supervised you as you methodically dropped white decorative pebbles into the deep end. Then you hopped in and I breastfed you just above the shimmery surface, under the blinding sun, to the tune of chattering birds. I felt like Mother Earth herself. It was so wholesome.
Now that we have all this space, I honestly can’t imagine ever living in a city ever again. Nor can I envision living in a not-nice house.
We’ve been ruined already, by this absurdly high yet affordable quality of life, which means…
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