is what a vehemently, bitterly angry and thoroughly pee-ed off young lady just yelled as she walked past our house just now. Not to me (I think anyway). Whoever you are, thank you for the title -and indeed it's not bad advice in general- although by the sounds of it I hope I never get on your bad side or run into you on the street late at night.
Speaking of which I just cannot wait to move out this suburb (I'm getting too old for this particular brand of urban edginess) and finally the Great Australian Dream aka home ownership looks imminent
It's simultaneously very exciting and profoundly stressful.
And like bugheart, what do I do when I'm stressed out?

Knit, of course.
It really calms me down.
You know you're really just a knitter when you're traipsing through a house for sale that's been professionally styled right down to the tshatshkes and baskets artfully tossed in the corners to give it that homey feel, and all you hone in on is one particular basket in one room. The one that is just the right dimensions and proportions, sturdy yet yielding, leather with a nice buckle on top. Just right in fact for a chair-side knitting basket. And you're tempted to tell the agent "I'm really not interested in buying the house, but how much is that basket"?
By the way, I am knitting a clap-oh-tee, and I know I'm only the 6000th person in the world to do so. I won't bore you with double entendres about 'the clap'. But one thing's for sure it's absolutely curing my knitting ennui that had set in after months of knitting with cotton, which was starting to feel like a chore rather than a pleasure. Time for some soft and sproingy, some gently unfolding colour and some slightly chunkier needles.
Pure loveliness.