Cold and dirty

I keep the house heated way above what lots of people think necessary. When my family got all sane and lovely and reliable, we ALWAYS had heating - the house was kept up to 15C in winter!

I wash bedding weekly unless life intervenes, and I start to feel icky about day 4 or 5 of sleeping on the fresh sheets. When I was growing up, bedding wasn't washed even fortnightly - maybe monthly, maybe less. And when we were bedwetting the wet sheets sometimes were just allowed to dry.

And we're insanely rich by most people's standards, and I am still constantly worried about money.

OH HAI IT'S THE COMING OF THE DARK AND I AM GETTING MOAR DEPRESSED.

I love where I live

It's just hard to remember sometimes when other people don't. I love that the library, playgrounds, swimming pool, supermarket, small local shops, train stations and bus routes are all close enough and easy enough that a nine-year-old could go out and about on her own and do stuff. I love that I can walk everywhere, not least because it means the children can walk everywhere, which gives them much more independence later on. I love that there are tons of parks and playgrounds within 5 minutes' walk and more, larger ones within 15 minutes' walk and a HUGE one less than 30 minutes' walk (but I never go there because I don't like it. Still, the children could if they wanted to). I love my house, because it's small enough that I never feel like I don't know who might be in it or where they might be. I love the garden because even if we don't look after it it's small enough to get habitable quite quickly. I love the fences because they're low enough to chat to the neighbours. I love knowing my neighbours. I love that the children have friends they can visit without an adult to help (well, not the 2-year-old). I love the farmers' market and the town-centre stuff at Christmas and summer holidays.

I just feel ashamed of it all because it's not what other people think I ought to have and do. Which is nonsense.