My Happy Place

| (0)

You can't vote

please try after log in

click to vote: outdated

You can't vote

please try after log in

click to vote: misleading or not useful

You can't vote

please try after log in

click to vote: average

You can't vote

please try after log in

click to vote: good

You can't vote

please try after log in

click to vote: great

I have a room. It's $100 per week (which was my goal - a fairly optimistic goal, but possible if you don't mind suspicious stains and suchlike). I have four housemates:

Agus: an Indian chef (boarder number 1), who is off at work from 10am to 10pm each day.

Fia: the mum and owner, very laid back. She works in some kind of training agency.

James: the older son, aged 20, an electrician (who has already done magic things in connecting me to the internet, may it live forever)

Leon: the younger son, aged 16, who is evidently disappointed that Agus' English limits their ability to hold conversation. Leon's about to become an apprentice, and hasn't decided yet whether to be a mechanic or a plumber.

Myself: the writer (boarder number two). Thus far, very polite.

I'm intrigued by the family dynamic mixed with the largely-absent chef. It seems like a really safe place, but not an emotionally heavy one (as, for example, with my own family). The boys do all the chores (not particularly well, so I might do a few bits and pieces when I feel like it - since I don't have ANY regular chores at all). I have my own fridge, and I'll buy and cook all my own food (I had a housemate once who insisted that I cook for her, and quickly gave me nightmares because she hated everything I prepared).

The house is quiet now - Agus has finished a phone call (I'm glad I don't speak his language. . . and that, unlike at the second share house I attempted this year, he wasn't discussing my odd ways in Chinese), and Leon has stopped snoring. Which tells me plenty about the house's one flaw: Leon is two rooms down from me. But I like being (literally) surrounded by men. I feel far happier here than in my own place. (Early mornings might be interesting, since I get up at 10am. Oh well.)

My room is stunningly beautiful. The floor is made of a dark wood, polished to a shine. I have my own green carpet (small enough that it's more like a rug - the room is roughly 3 by 4m, with a large built in wardrobe). I also have my own ceiling fan, and a built in (working!) heater that I've just discovered has its own thermostat (I haven't ever lived with a personal thermostat....though since temperature changes often wake me at night, it should be brilliant). Last but not least, I have a balcony. . . with water views. The window (being a door as well) is enormous, and faces North-East. At the end of the street, just 200m from me (where there is a man-made lake) there is a cluster of restaurants, specialty shops and a grocery.

THIS is the life.

From here - with all my belongings in one place (Tim and I collected them on Saturday from no less than five places where I shared them out during my homelessness) - I can DO stuff, and think clearly, and relax properly, and gather myself. From such a safe and solid home base, I feel ready to be a reasonably competent individual. This is much better than I'd hoped for.

Fel

Image by Moose23
Courtesy of Creative Commons