A year and a half ago, I introduced myself to you all as The Press' new reporter, confused about where the toilets and coffee were.
Since then, I've shared almost every aspect of my life in this blog.
Now, I am sad to say, Anna's Turn is over.
This is my last week of work at The Press, as I'm off to pursue a new opportunity (that's the polite way of saying you resigned, right?).
It's fair to say it has been both an interesting and rewarding experience working as a news reporter for the South Island's largest newspaper.
When EK and I first moved into our flat together my Dad bought us a house warming present.
It was a brand new, shiny 34 inch LED television.
In a mostly empty flat, where a Swiss ball acted as the sole chair, it was by the far the flashest thing we owned.
Two years later and it probably still is. (The Swiss ball has been relegated to the corner now we have an actual couch, but it's still brought out occasionally when we feel like sitting ergonomically.)
However, our flash TV is the item we now use the least.
Pink sashes, short skirts and straws shaped like male appendages - a bride-to-be and her pack of hens are easy to spot on a night out.
I've always said that when I get married I'll never have a hens' night.
To me, it's a bit of a strange concept.
I'm all for a fun night out and a chance for the bride to blow off some steam before the wedding, but why is it commonplace that hens' nights turn messy?
I know the stag do has been a traditional rite of passage before marriage - a man's last night of freedom - but women are now trying to outdo the stags.
I stood in front of the Sydney Opera House, trying to take an awkward selfie of myself.
The result was a double-chinned blob (my face) with a white blob (the iconic building poking out of it).
It was officially a first-world problem of travelling alone.
Last week, I was unexpectedly jetted over to Sydney as a finalist for the Fairfax Women of Influence Awards.
Everything happened in a bit of a rush and it wasn't until I was sitting on the plane enjoying my glass of Aussie Shiraz, that I realised it would be the first time I had travelled to another country by myself.
Forget brunching, sleeps-ins and dog-walking - I have had my eyes opened to a whole new Sunday activity.
Over the past few weekends, EK and I have been traipsing across the city and invading people's homes.
No, we haven't embarked on a life of crime, although that may not be a bad idea as a way to fund our plans. What we are doing is looking at buying our first home.
While we're not quite at the stage of signing on any dotted lines, we've been checking out some open homes to see what our money can potentially get us.
It hasn't been an entirely encouraging experience.
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