Move

“Oh, Lazarus…
How did your debts get paid?”

Shit’s a’changing again.

If you’re reading this, I have moved in together with 4 other people in one enormous house and we finally have internet.

At the Thursday of writing however, I am in this house all alone. A mattress and sleeping bag will make up my bed tonight, because all my belongings, from toilet paper to my wallet, are currently hidden away in boxes, stacked in a corner of the living room, 2 floors below me. Several people already told me they think moving is fun, and I declared them all batshit. Moving… is hell.

My roommates are students, artists and musicians, and I don’t think I could have selected them any better if I had the choice. Instead, they chose me- offered me a room right when I was about to move. I know them through my sister, most are ex-classmates of hers. She’s quite annoyed that I’m stealing all her friends, she just can’t deal with the fact that I’m more likeable than her.

Ground floor: Huge living room, kitchen, shitty bathroom (the only thing I don’t like about the place)
First and second floor: Two smaller rooms, one larger room, and one ballroom-sized.
And then… holy shit, an attic. With a pool table. And a boxing bag when I’m trough with it.

I called dibs on the larger room on the second floor, which I genuinely think is the best room of the house. It doesn’t need paint, is easily heated, has two windows facing south and didn’t have a smoker previously living there. One shitty thing is though, it’s on the second floor. That makes forgetting your keys a seriously annoying thing.

But holy shit, space! My god, what luxury to be able to pick something up and place it elsewhere without needing to step over it constantly. I don’t think I’ll miss much about my old place: The mold, the broken heating, the fuck-you-that’s-not-a-bathroom with the curtain for a door, the stairs steeper than a ladder,… it was a cool place to live in, but enough is enough. The main reasons I stayed there were the rent and location, which are about the same as this palace.

Here’s something I’ll miss: Privacy. Walking my bare testicles straight from shower to bed, or getting my freak on with a chick on the couch. Or the living room carpet. Good times.
Now it’s a small marathon from the bathroom to my bedroom, in which I pass the kitchen, living room, front door and three hallways (I bet you now picture me jogging that). I’m going to have to do some serious recon training or wear pants in the future. Blah.

I never signed a lease so I can bugger off whenever I like, which is also quite important to me. That’s because I don’t have the feeling I really made progress with this move. Living by myself seemed like a final step into adulthood, and here I am living with students again. The freedom to walk away from that feels liberating, even though I’m not planning on doing so, any time soon. We’ll see.

I grew up in boarding school, and as a result, I’m a bitchingly easy guy to live with. As long as we can agree on what the sink and toilet are for, I’m happy as a panda at the swimming pool. I can be a bit of a slob though, however I like to believe that has improved immensely after living in a house for 4 years, that was ridiculously difficult to maintain. Whatever happens, I’m sure it won’t be the equivalent of dragging an industrial vacuum cleaner up a ladder to clean the debris from my couch after my neighbor closed his door a little too enthusiastically. This should be a breeze.

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