Well, I've done it. All those who went away for university will most likely not be impressed by this, but this weekend was kind of a big deal for me. I moved into my own place.
Scratch that. My own, very shared place.
It seems that my landlady, Denise, was a little liberal when she described how many people would be living there.
See, when I first went to see the house, there were three people living in it. A couple who have the downstairs room, and an older man whose a "working artist," (his name is Alberto, how perfect is that?? Of course I have yet to see evidence of paint, brushes, or canvasses of any kind, but I keep my door locked and don't ask questions).
Denise told me that the couple downstairs would be moving out shortly, and that a new tenant about my age was moving in upstairs across the hall from me. Awesome, only two roommates and someone to hang with that's not over 40!
Well, I got to talking to Alvin (husband of couple) after I got all my stuff in on Sunday, and he said that he and his wife had actually decided to stay for a while longer to make some extra money before buying their house. Ok, my number of roommates just doubled. Sigh, fine.
Then Rebbecca moves in. And she's my age alright, except that she's got a kid. A 3-year old who enjoys running around quite naked.
So now we have 5 1/2 people living in a four-bedroom house. I've basically moved from one hostel to another, except that if these people start to piss me off, they aren't leaving in the next couple of days.
I'm thinking I might not be here much longer...
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