Housiversary

So this morning I woke up to the sigh of rain, the smell of probably-should've-showered-last-night sweat, and the spirited collective yelp of a crowd of teachers' union protesters. My girlfriend sat up in bed, smiled at me a bit, and said, "Honey, it's your one-week housiversary!"
Boh?
Well, yes. I've been living here a week now. Out Of Home. With The Girlfriend. I had hoped to have a million things to report but so far, it's been confoundingly undifferent. The hardest thing to adjust to is living with a cat. The Cat In Question belongs to the third housemate in our little shop top flat. It is gazey. It is black. I have never experienced cats before. They're not quite real. They make no noise, and they move so smoothly that you don't really notice them unless their giant molten eyes are fixed on you. They're like ghosts... ghosts that ooze into your room when you're not looking, and hide under your bed til you leave, closing the door and locking them in, and then they throw up on your carpet.
We do have a ghost in this house, however. His name is Brian. I've never seen him, but I've heard first-hand accounts of sightings and encounters. Sometimes people try to summon him, but he's notoriously difficult to get a hold of. He's a little like the Phantom of the Opera, in that he demands a salary for our use of "his" opera house... I mean, flat. I don't mind him being here, except that he's very particular about the state of the place.
The house itself is comfortable enough. Every possible surface has been painted with the same waterproof eggshell paint - including the skirting, windowsills, bathroom tiles and shower floor (where it peels horribly, yet Brian objects to our peeling it off completely). But my room is spacious, and I'm allowed to have ferrets.
I feel incredibly domestic. I'm enthusiastic about grocery shopping, and I actually enjoy cooking dinner for my girlfriend. I yearn to venture down to the variety store where they sell baking trays and plastic storage and vases and pots and $5 porcelain dolls.
Except. I have no money left.