I wrote this several weeks ago and didn't publish it at the time, I think because I wanted to retain good relations with my co-inhabitants and was concerned that one of them might read it. I no longer need that concern and am therefore able to share the post, which was originally written to precede #311 Wanting to leave.
There's no post to write today. This is not a blog post. These words have not been thought out with the purpose of describing a situation that I find amusing, interesting or worth highlighting.
I am not well. Every single night I go to bed knowing I won't sleep. I lie there until 1am or later waiting for the sounds from the kitchen to stop. I wake exhausted each morning and can never make up for it. There are occasions when it's OK but I remain so on edge and out of kilter that I can't sleep anyway.
It's worse when Alex comes, which is often. One assumes Bruno tolerates the loud swearing, somehow. Even the sound of the front door opening and closing makes my blood boil.
South London does not care who it lives with. I've attended six viewings so far. The tenants are either not there or they don't leave their rooms. The landlords won't bother them on my account.
It does not look good. I've messaged fifty-five advertisers and counting. There are no new adverts left to apply too. New rooms trickle onto the web at a rate of three or four a day. They are quickly snapped up.
It does not look good. South London does not care who it lives with. Perhaps I am asking too much.
There's no post to write today. This is not a blog post. These words have not been thought out with the purpose of describing a situation that I find amusing, interesting or worth highlighting.
I am not well. Every single night I go to bed knowing I won't sleep. I lie there until 1am or later waiting for the sounds from the kitchen to stop. I wake exhausted each morning and can never make up for it. There are occasions when it's OK but I remain so on edge and out of kilter that I can't sleep anyway.
It's worse when Alex comes, which is often. One assumes Bruno tolerates the loud swearing, somehow. Even the sound of the front door opening and closing makes my blood boil.
South London does not care who it lives with. I've attended six viewings so far. The tenants are either not there or they don't leave their rooms. The landlords won't bother them on my account.
It does not look good. I've messaged fifty-five advertisers and counting. There are no new adverts left to apply too. New rooms trickle onto the web at a rate of three or four a day. They are quickly snapped up.
It does not look good. South London does not care who it lives with. Perhaps I am asking too much.
2 comments
Good to see how things can and do change sometimes. Just seems like an eternity while you’re waiting.
You put a huge amount of energy into making it happen though so big thumbs up to you and it’s fab to know it’s finally paid off.
Happy for you:))
Cheers :) yeah it was a lucky break. It's really good to be back here.
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