but I’ll tell you about that tomorrow…
I did have something to say, but I’ve forgotten it, as it tends to go.
Isobelle and I declared it ‘house night’ and crashed in front of some classic girlish Pride and Prejudice. Homework is somewhat all over the place and I’m never quite sure what needs to be done next except that it has to be done.
I pulled one of my small journals out on the train home and used it. Weird, but good fun. Feels and probably is a reality that I haven’t written anything much in a while.
To conclude whatever I rambled on about, I listed down some goals. One was to provide this sadly lacking space with a bit of meat (for all those non vegos out there) or a few greens. We shall see.
I got home and cracked into some Strongbow and found left over lentil burgers that Isobelle made the other night. Glorious. I cooked a few more things and had a highly, highly enjoyable dinner.
While I’m on food. Geoff and I had the pleasure of visiting Scott and Christina the other evening and boy can Scott cook. I really, really enjoyed myself.
It’s a bit of a rare age group for me. All the people I know are really old, really young or roughly my age. That sounds intelligent. Oh how I miss conversation within a small group that has some depth intellectually! It’s been far too long without it, I’m all out of practice. I don’t know how I can say how deeply appreciative I am of people who take a little interest in your life seemingly from no-where.
Okay. I’m going to bed.
Sure, I’m working now, moved out, independent.
Crunch.
I go home Wednesday night – tonight, and find there for me some mail. I open that mail and stare in horror as my mind flicks from the numbers on the paper to the numbers in my bank account.
Rego and Insurance. Horrible.
I count more numbers in my head and they don’t add up.
Geoff comes and we count more numbers and they do add up but it’s a rough estimate and there sure isn’t much left over. All that ‘much left over’ has to pay for food and petrol and train tickets.
It’s going to be a very tight month and a half.
I’m thinking of just asking people for money for my 21st….
Woe is me who has to get over it and really live like a frugal dutchy.
I didn’t keep up my box and bag count during the move, but I did get there and in almost one trip (with a couple of vehicles). I’ve now been living out of home two weeks. I’ve cooked and eaten with Isobelle – my housemate – a grand total of three times, maybe even just two. I’m loving the place, the pace and the freedom.
For a few photos you can go check out my flickr account.
We made ourselves at home very quickly, lived the first week without any kind of table and should be upgrading from bar fridge to real fridge this evening – which will be slightly brilliant as I’m getting sick of lying the milk flat.
As you must have worked out, the internet is working and everything else is and continues to be lovely and wonderful and all those other adjectives… except for my coffee plunger which shattered when it fell of the kitchen bench.
(Look what I found in drafts!)
To snatch the last few minutes of my lunch break…
As Geoff mentioned, he saw Notes on a Scandal the other night and coincidentally, so did I.
The film is absolutely brilliant. Creepy. Weird. Cringy. Adrenaline producing.
Geoff was struck by the ‘old people/lonely’ thing where as I clued in to the absolute rampant instance of emotional manipulation.
I know what it’s like to be both an observer, a middle-man and I’m sure even a participant in an emotionally manipulative situation. And it’s horrible (a pretty clear theme in the movie) when it gets out of hand or even tries to creep in under the splits in a little miscommunication and unexplained expectation.
This is rooted in selfishness and fear.
I hate it for what it does to both parties.