I've flown up to Brisbane for the first time, to visit my family's new home. They've bought another house in the city, which for some reason resembles a giant sandstone pier, with Movieworld jostling against the city on the shoreline.
The house is gigantic, as you'd expect in Brisvegas. The foyer is like the one in The Nanny. I walk up this excessively vast staircase, to find three bedrooms and a tiny little door, which I presume goes off to the bathroom. I know immediately that they've completely forgotten I exist, and haven't even bothered to set aside some room for me.
I walk up to my brother, who has installed the door from his bedroom back in Melbourne. He's trying to get rid of the stickers on his door with a fork or something. I point out to him that he should use the steam feature on the iron, and proceed to show him how.
The iron works a lot better than i expected - it gets rid of the paint on the door, to reveal beautiful redwood panelling underneath. He's shocked, and I'm happy.
Then I wake up, feeling fucking fantastic for the first time in months. Don't ask why.