Remember how housing has always been the bane of my existence?
Well. Nothing new to report there.
Three weeks ago I moved into a house close to where I’ve been staying since I moved out of the palace that was student accommodation. My, those were simpler times… anyways, I moved and was all cheery because here I go, having my own place again, blah blah blah.
Yeah. Not so much.
The location, fine. The one housemate I currently have seems nice enough despite being under the illusion that his bottle of Febreeze in any way masks the stench of the pot he’s been smoking. Unfortunately something has been broken the entire time I have been here. Once that thing is fixed, something else breaks. The cycle hasn’t ended and my landlord doesn’t seem to be in any rush to fix things, despite the fact that he seemed like a nice enough fellow.
I really don’t get it.
I know light bulbs break, but they’re not that hard to replace. I don’t like cooking in the dark. I like having clean clothes. Clean clothes don’t happen when the washer leaks all over my kitchen floor and the dryer trips the circuit and plunges the house into a temporary blackout. My clothes are currently ‘drying’ on various surfaces around my room while I snuggle under 2 (2!) duvets because it’s July which means nothing to Ireland. The radiators don’t work- I tried. Again, “summer” combined with shitty house means Liz is nooooooot a happy camper.
On the upside, I finished data collection for my dissertation (struggle bus) and can start analyzing and writing. I am going on a rock climbing trip to Croatia in October and can’t wait. I ate delicious chips for dinner (healthy choices, oh yeah) and am currently looking up destinations for a short trip to anywhere the sun shines that isn’t too expensive to get to. I finally caved to procrastination and opened a Netflix account.
Grad school. Nearly there. How is it almost August already?