9newhoMe

So I've moved into my new home. I've been living here for two weeks now and it's great; the rooms don't shake anymore when trains go past and the view from the windows is one of a park with trees where people walk their dogs.

It was about time we all moved out from the last place. The mould had begun to take hold of what it deemed its own, so the windows were beginning to fur up, the walls were beginning to crumble and the ceiling in the kitchen (or the floor of the bathroom) was clearly audible in its deliberation about whether or not to stay standing. I think most of us learned something from living there - how to adapt to conditions beyond those revelled in by The Young Ones.

So now with our new found 'qualifications' we're all feeling at a bit of a loose end in the new place; so far it's still clean and comfortable.
My laziest flatmate has, however, already managed to "create" a special aqua-expressway of her own from the bathroom into the kitchen below. It was mostly down to her that in the previous place the floors of the upstairs bathroom, and downstairs kitchen, were becoming so well aquainted that at times the rest of us would have to brace them apart with beams and pillars. The novelty of walking into the kitchen on a Saturday morning to make some tea and toast, and finding the units on the other side of the room approaching with great velocity and blur as you skid headlong forwards, after inadvertantly placing one foot in a puddle the length and breadth of the room, soon wore off.
To continue (and get some of the agro off my chest) her time of rising grew later and later in the day - until ultimately I'd return home from work to find that favourite Saturday morning water-ski facility set up and ready to go at six o'clock at night. I chose that point in time to "have a chat with her" about her state of mind, lifestyle and how she intended to develop from a complete bum to semi-low end order of peasant. I wanted to know if I could begin to document her life - my day job wasn't (and still isn't) paying well and I could use the extra cash from selling snippets of her self-destruction to a lifestyle suppliment in one of the broadsheets. Of course she'd have to kick the bucket at some point, not horribly, just tragically. Looking back it was probably some of my suggestions about how best she could destroy herself that might've prompted the door, leading simply to her inner personality, to be slammed shut in my face...how it remains to this day, unfortunately...no really, such a shame...still, she's out and about looking for work now. You never know, after 3 years of hanging around in a perfectly habitable house, until she'd flooded it out so completely it began to develop gills and flippers of its own, she may well take this opportunity to start again. Imagine...not feeling like you're raising an infant each day you listen to her drivel, but actually talking to someone and appreciating what they say and do...*bliss*

Ooh I feel better - thank you Blogspot!

Best go and make some tea...