simont | (no subject)

Well, the die is now cast. Yesterday afternoon I picked up the keys to my new flat. I suppose the next thing to do is to make a lot of phone calls – utilities, NTL, council tax, removal people and so forth – and see if I can work out exactly when I'm doing the actual moving.

This is all very stressful, somehow; I'm sure I don't remember my last move being this stressful. I keep having horrible thoughts like ‘yes, but am I doing the right thing?’, usually late at night when I'm trying to get to sleep. I keep telling myself that the new flat has a driveway, a shower and a dining room and it's in the right place, and hence everything else could be marginally worse than here and it would still be a definite improvement, but that part of my brain whose function is to worry unduly about everything is apparently putting in some very conscientious overtime this month.

Not that I won't be very glad not to live here any more; particularly since I have a new downstairs neighbour, who seemed like a thoroughly pleasant person to be living near until Friday night when she had her boyfriend round. There are probably ways to feel more lonely, such as living in the middle of a desert a thousand miles from any other human being and that sort of thing, but I have a hard time imagining a more effective way to be reminded that you're lonely than deciding to get an early night, on a Friday evening, alone in a king-size double bed, and then being kept awake for the best part of an hour by … how can I put this … the very loud sounds of two people not being the least bit lonely in the bedroom directly below yours. I shall be glad not to live here.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

two people not being the least bit lonely

Aww, poor you *hugs*

There are probably ways to feel more lonely, such as living in the middle of a desert a thousand miles from any other human being and that sort of thing

"They cannot scare me with their empty spaces
Between stars--on stars where no human race is.
I have it in me so much nearer home
To scare myself with my own desert places."
(Robert Frost, "Desert Places" (http://www.internal.org/view_poem.phtml?poemID=120))

*hugs*