In a few hours I might finally have a place to store my clothes and I think I may wee myself.

When most people say they’re been “living out of a suitcase” it means they’ve been leading a nomadic life, traipsing around to the most beautiful places on the planet while they find themselves.

For me it literally translates to “I’m too poor to buy furniture and I don’t have a car so I can’t even go around and pick up other people’s discarded drawers left on the street for a council kerbside collection”.

I haven’t been to any Instagramable locations and I haven’t found myself; instead I’ve been in a cesspit of a city, in a funk that only cemented how much of a grump I already knew that I was.

My clothes are in suitcases and washing baskets, pushed under my bed in a sad, sad bid to replicate the storage drawers one of my fancier, home-owner friends has in her deluxe bed. And it’s entirely as disheartening as it sounds.

So, after cutting back on my trips home, I’ve get a few dollars I’ve decided to “just bloody well spend” on basic furniture.

But because I’m still a Stinge-eralla, I’m going to the second-hand route. Sure, it also means there’s a few environmental perks because I’m reusing instead of buying brand new, and I like that. I like to try to reduce my carbon footprint as much as possible, in a bid to make up for my lack of any other redeemable attributes. But let’s be honest, it’s about saving dem dollars.

So I’ve been a Gumtree fiend these past few days. This morning, I had refreshed my search for something with drawers to find a 13-minute-old entry. Not fearing appearing as a supper keen desperado, I pounced.

After a few back-and-forth messages, I’ve been told my drawers will be here at some time around 8pm.

And holy guacamole, am I keen.

I’m like a child losing their shit about Christmas morning, only I’m an adult with the same enthusiasm I once had for a Barbie picnic van as I do for a piece of furniture.

This is what my life has been reduced to: scouring the trading post and weeing my pants with excitement over a basic clothing storage unit. And if I leave aside the sobering fact that my happiness is hinged on something so boring, there remains the truly depressing realisation that I’ve lived here for nearly five months without having anywhere to keep my clothes.

Good.

Now to go to my local corner store/alterations shop to get the hem fixed on the skirt I bought for $3 that I’d been holding together with blu tack.

Onwards and upwards!