Moving Out

Shifting out hasn't been particularly easy, mind you. 

When I had confirmed where my new place would be at, I had initiated the extremely arduous task of packing. It was difficult - in the beginning of the year, I had thoroughly unpacked as I thought I would be staying until term was officially over. Things just changed, I guess. I wouldn't call myself the most tolerant person in the world, but I wasn't one that would just allow others to walk on me either. 

Besides, when your family actually supports your decisions, you'll realize that you're pretty much on the right track...well, sort of.

I grimaced at the amount of jewellery and nail polish I had to pack, including the piles of books which I had spontaneously bought from countless of NZ book fairs. And there were those bloody boots and coats. What the eff was I going to do with them? 

It was time to call in some favors - and the favors were done, oh yes, they were. I was grateful for the fact that I had some local friends who could help me out. I chucked the books and the female paraphernalia into various bags and brought them over, thanking my friend repeatedly and promising that I would always play Resident Evil with her after that. 

Then there were the waste papers and previous term text books that I no longer needed. I shrugged, chucking them into the recycle. Anything unneeded would be unceremoniously chucked away - no hard feelings.

The worst thing was that I had stepped into wet concrete while trying to empty my rubbish bin. My host mum had been thoroughly pissed, mind you. But it was a fucking accident, for goodness sake. There should have been an effing sign saying, "WET CONCRETE, DO NOT PUT YOUR STUPID LEGS IN IT AND CREATE A BLOODY HOLE." 

Anyway.

I chucked in all the clothes I had into the two suitcases I had, frowning when I realized my pajama pants were missing. My still pissed-off host mum explained that they weren't in the wash, and I had no fucking idea where they were. I was beginning to be frustrated as well - they were made out of wool, and replacing them would be costly. In the end, though, they were found...and I'm not going to mention anymore on that, because dear God, some things just shouldn't be remembered - this included.

When I finally shifted, I was glad to see my new place had a separate lounge which I could use with my other housemates. This was good, as it meant a semblance of privacy without being cooped up in my room the entire day. Second, I had the freedom to turn on the heater whenever I wanted, and I had an electric blanket too. The prohibition of having one in my first home stay was actually one of the main reasons why I moved out in the first place. 

Thirdly, LESS STUFFY PEOPLE. 

The third reason was totally legit, I swear. I love the fact that people are so casual over here in my new place. I can just appear in my sweatpants without attempting to look proper, and that was great - not to mention I could just rummage through the cupboards for anything I wanted to eat without asking for anyone's permission and whatnot. There were dishwashers too - no more slaving in the kitchen attempting to scrub oily pots and pans.

Next, the internet was much quicker than my old place. Amazing. It was even quicker than what I had in Malaysia, which was bloody brilliant. I could load stuff so quickly, watch youtube vids in seconds, and oh that was just a dream come true. 

So far so good, I guess. 

The sun's shining in on me right now. Wish the days would always be like this.