Or I own more clothes. I haven't run out of clean stuff and thus had to go to uni in an ancient miniskirt and a pink strappy top labelled "age 11-12" for months now (NOT FUNNY NOT FUNNY AT ALL HONESTLY) ... nor a pyjama top and swimming trunks... nor in regular clothes apart from boxer shorts belonging to Hagrid that have to be held up with several safety pins (he's called Hagrid for a reason) nor with no underwear or socks at all.
However, I did butter my bread with a ladle this morning, having run out of knives... then forks... then spoons... yes.
Now I've systematically dashed all hope in our ability to feed, wash and dress ourselves - because the process can take years and years and years, and we fully expect to come across opposition that is NOT based on our ability or inability to take care of a child, we're probably going to get ourselves on the adoption register by the end of 2011.
Exciting eh, this future planning lark?