A couple of weeks ago I was taking a shower. This was post scrubbing a Cat-In-The-Hat style ring from the tub (PS had no idea what the book was even talking about until I moved out of the family home because Mer is such an amazing housekeeper). There I was, shin-deep in shower water from the clogged drain contemplating whether or not I would have time to shave before the tub overflowed, when my thoughts were rudely interrupted by the showerhead slamming into my skull. After I gingerly reattached it by dangling it precariously from the screw (it would later fall off and hit me in the head 2 more times…) and stomped [splashed] out of frustration, fear shot through me. I could have died! Ok, I’m being dramatic… But seriously, what if that had knocked me out cold? No one would have known. My fall would have been muted by the foot of dirty – er, soapy? – water cushioning my tub. And then I would have drowned. Asphyxiated by my own abandoned filth. Gross. What a way to go… That very night I started looking online for a new flat. On my blackberry…because the internet that I pay for doesn’t reach my room. So, until I became cross-eyed I searched and searched for a new abode. Nothing. Whatever. I was being dramatic anyway… this was my year to be bohemian. My flat is cheap and in a great location. I mean, I just found a butcher! In any case, mostly what I hated was the bathroom. I dreaded it. So I found the perfect solution: shower less. [Mer just shuddered and closed her laptop in shame.] I’m sorry, Mom. I probably shouldn’t admit that this is the conclusion that I came since French Guy (FG) a colleague, friend, stalker and [after a weekend trip to Brussels last week] travel buddy, is one of the 3 subscribers to my blog and also happens to accuse me of smelling bad on a regular basis. He prefers to speak to me at work via communicator rather than approach my desk. He has also been dying for a cameo in my blog. Consider this your debut, FG.
This is a picture of the candlelit shower I had to take last night because the fuse blew in the bathroom almost a week ago and still no one has come to fix it... Please note the excessive number of bottles. That would be due to the excessive number of people sharing the bathroom (5).
So I decided to love my flat and maybe save money. Really, the only reason I hate my flat (besides the bathroom) is that I want to live alone. It feels selfish, but I do. I recounted the number of housemates I have had in the past 8 years since I graduated HS:
v Freshman year of college: shared a small room with a random person (who turned out to be great)
v Sophomore year of college: shared a tiny bedroom in a sorority with 2 people
v Junior year of college: lived in a sorority with 60 other girls
v Senior year of college: shared a house with 8 other people (8 great people…and a bunny)
v
v
v Current: 4 housemates aaand one freeloader
And I really loved all those experiences…and never really felt that I needed personal space, but now I am almost 26 and I don’t want to live in a mini-frat house. I actually would with the right people, but anyway I hope to have a future filled with housemates someday: husband, kids, dogs, free-loaders, convalescent parents…whatever - all welcome in my home.
I just want a moment to be alone and find out that I’m not that great of a person and need lots of other people to make me better. So… I found a studio! I know, studios are creepy. I agree. Like a dorm room for adults who, prior to realising they could only afford a dorm room, thought they made a decent living. But this studio isn’t so scary: it has a separate kitchen, separate bathroom, lofted storage and the bed area is slightly raised so, pending a sheet or Japanese screens, it’s a separate sleeping area. It has a bay window (double-glazed – KEY in this land of old house and drafty madness) that looks out onto a tree-lined street. It also came furnished. Which is a blessing and a curse since the furnishings involve lots of bamboo. Eeee. It was a really good deal. And when I say really good, I mean terrible. Rip off, really. But a great deal for
5 comments:
Gracias.
You must love moving... I loved living by myself. Bamboo can be hot. Thanks for the update. F, G and I often wonder what you're up to :)
De nad, Wad. McJuga,I need to call you! Is there ever a good time? Are the babes on a schedule yet?
You see, actually I wasn't upset with you yesterday in the tube. If I was silent and my eyes were semi-closed, it just because I wanted to avoid to lap the thick air up, or to take the risk of having a retinal detachment due to the high acidity level in this too confined carriage.
Btw, good post!
F.G.
PS: 60 girls!! And now you want a studio? What's wrong with you?....no seriously, what's wrong with you?
Good for you, be a mover!
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