I had autumn break last week, and that was very convenient, because I had to make all kinds of arrangements for the new house and start preparations for leaving the old one. I gave notice on October 10th, but the landlord said that would mean I had to be out by December 1st. Which is a pity, because I won’t be able to get into the new place until December 17th. Which means I’ll have to live at my mom’s house for 17 days, put the big stuff in storage, and I’ll have to move twice. So I thought: ‘If I have to move twice, I might as well leave right now and save some money’. So I told the landlord I would be up for a quick move and he agreed, on the condition that he would have another renter the moment I leave. So a realtor came and placed and ad, and immediately three people wanted to see the place. Of course. It’s a really nice apartment.
Last Friday the realtor told me that it’ll probably be possible to rent the apartment to someone else starting November 1st, which means I have to get out REALLY QUICKLY! Enter sheer panic.
I started packing on Friday and have now moved out all my books and my stuff on the terrace. I have also sorted through half of my clothes (I’m throwing away a lot) and will do the other half tonight. The company will have a big partyish kind of thing next Saturday, let alone a very busy week this week, so I will have to move on Sunday and maybe the week after that, and move into the apartment on the top floor of my mom’s house. I went to see it, and I need to clean it out before I can move in.
The upside to all of this: I will probably save close to 1000 euro, which pays for most of my plane ticket east. The downside: I will be living with mom for six weeks. I hope we will both survive. Mom is looking forward to it a lot, she is imagining breakfasts together and cooking me healthy dinners and stuff. I imagine her insisting on me wearing woolen hats on the bike to work in the morning, and her being concerned when I come home late and stuff. We’ll see, it’s only six weeks.
And then there’s leaving this place. It breaks my heart. It’s so typically me, that I feel bad and insulted almost that someone else is going to move in. I try to remind myself of all the annoying things this place brings (strange noises when someone in the house opens a faucet, no air in the middle of the night, the landlord never did fix the heating system, I can’t park my bike inside, so one was stolen and the next one has been smashed a couple of times, so the breaks hardly work and I hear a strange scraping sound whenever I go a little bit faster than normal), but it doesn’t help. I will miss all of it, and more: the incredible view from the window, the hum of people on the street, the outside terrace, my bed next to the beautiful window, the feeling of being alone among a crowd, of my own place that is safe and warm and cool.
I know I will get something else in return in December. Another place to make my own, where I’ll have a lot more freedom, to paint and stuff. And a much better kitchen, a place to park the bike, a working heating system that I can turn on and off myself. An investment. Something that really is mine. But right now it still feels to far from me to really be happy with it. Home is such a complicated concept, you know. I will never be a rolling stone type-of-girl.
Oh, and I got myself sneakers. Black ones with green laces.
I started packing on Friday and have now moved out all my books and my stuff on the terrace. I have also sorted through half of my clothes (I’m throwing away a lot) and will do the other half tonight. The company will have a big partyish kind of thing next Saturday, let alone a very busy week this week, so I will have to move on Sunday and maybe the week after that, and move into the apartment on the top floor of my mom’s house. I went to see it, and I need to clean it out before I can move in.
The upside to all of this: I will probably save close to 1000 euro, which pays for most of my plane ticket east. The downside: I will be living with mom for six weeks. I hope we will both survive. Mom is looking forward to it a lot, she is imagining breakfasts together and cooking me healthy dinners and stuff. I imagine her insisting on me wearing woolen hats on the bike to work in the morning, and her being concerned when I come home late and stuff. We’ll see, it’s only six weeks.
And then there’s leaving this place. It breaks my heart. It’s so typically me, that I feel bad and insulted almost that someone else is going to move in. I try to remind myself of all the annoying things this place brings (strange noises when someone in the house opens a faucet, no air in the middle of the night, the landlord never did fix the heating system, I can’t park my bike inside, so one was stolen and the next one has been smashed a couple of times, so the breaks hardly work and I hear a strange scraping sound whenever I go a little bit faster than normal), but it doesn’t help. I will miss all of it, and more: the incredible view from the window, the hum of people on the street, the outside terrace, my bed next to the beautiful window, the feeling of being alone among a crowd, of my own place that is safe and warm and cool.
I know I will get something else in return in December. Another place to make my own, where I’ll have a lot more freedom, to paint and stuff. And a much better kitchen, a place to park the bike, a working heating system that I can turn on and off myself. An investment. Something that really is mine. But right now it still feels to far from me to really be happy with it. Home is such a complicated concept, you know. I will never be a rolling stone type-of-girl.
Oh, and I got myself sneakers. Black ones with green laces.
No comments:
Post a Comment