I move on Tuesday 7 February. And this is where I'm moving to.
Yes, I have a three month contract where I am. But seriously. Seriously. I have been really very fucking lucky to get this. It was only after all my paperwork was accepted that the tenants told me they had had loads of people interested. So I'll keep paying the rent on this place for one further month and just slip away to Châtelain.
Things I will be glad to leave:
1. Max Fleming. I have no idea who he is but allegedly he lives on the top floor. He never picks up his mail so every time I sort through the mail to get mine, there are sixteen things for him.
2. The mysterious sink blockage that seems to happen every couple of weeks. Yesterday it took half a bottle of Destop and a sink plunger. I only put water down my sink. Is there someone boiling up human remains and putting gristle down the plughole?
3. The Spaniard next door. He leaves his rubbish outside his door. Cunt.
4. The weekend parties. Not because I was never invited. More because I would like to turn up when they are still partying at 3am under my room, like Carrie in the film Carrie, and do telekinetic shit on them.
5. My room that smells of bleach and bad shower.
I'm sure the new place won't be perfect. But it will be home.