photo saturday: making faces

angry tin tiki facesad wood face
I'm sick of talking about having to move. I'm sick of telling the same story about the last move, my current apartment, the old apartment or whatever new apartment I may have looked at to multiple people. I'm sick of feeling like I'm going to throw up. I'm sick of being on the very edge of breaking down into the ugly cry three times a day. And breaking into the ugly cry if I spent too much time looking around my apartment.

And with the utmost respect to everyone who has been supportive and very clearly on my side, I'm sick of hearing that it's going to be okay. Yes, I'm being overly dramatic about this whole thing given the many much worse things that go on in the world on a daily basis, but you honestly have no factual basis for the statement that everything will work out. You're being positive, and trying to help me stay positive, I completely understand that. But that's not how I feel, and even if I do find somewhere new, it's not going to be here, which is, minor niggles notwithstanding, pretty much as perfect a set of walls, doors and floors as I could have found.

I'm also sick of people who own the places I rent being assholes of one type or another. I'm sick of people who own more than one house trying to understand how I feel. And I'm sick of everything that's in my price range and in the locations I want to live being minuscule... or at least seeming that way in photos.

Mostly I'm sick of my life right now. I should be playing too much Assassin's Creed on the PS4 and being excited about the start of the Fringe, not looking at a pile of folded up moving boxes and not being able to even thing about eating because both my heart and my stomach have taken up permanent residency in my throat. And I don't give a shit about much of anything beyond what I absolutely need to do to get through the day.

And at the end of the day I'm sick of myself for being the person who feels the things in the last four paragraphs.

So, with as minimal fuss as possible... here are the facts as I know them.

My lease expires on February 6. The owners have given me until February 20 to move out. They won't allow me to move out before February 6 without paying rent for the additional time, even though the place is going to be vacant while they make whatever alterations they need to make.

I attended inspections for three different apartments last week. One was a tiny dogbox which was obviously designed by an architect who was a thundering moron (there's more of that than you would expect, particularly in places that were clearly designed, I'm guessing, between the 60's and the 80's). The second was in a block which I can see from the bedroom window of my current apartment (which would be a bad idea, since I would be able to see this place from that place and that would be horrible for my ongoing mental health... I won't even look at the street my previous apartment was on, let alone go down the street). The third is in a gorgeous 1940's art deco apartment block, which is everything I love in the world, however it's kind of grotty in places and the kitchen was very obviously designed by a man who had never set foot in a kitchen in his life. It's not a kitchen, it's a passageway.

However, for all the reasons that aren't the kitchen and the fact that I need to be out of here as soon as I can be, I put an application in for the deco place. I'm hoping that my memory of the kitchen is worse than it actually is in person, or that I can find ways to work around it.

I also have two issues in relation to rental applications... the first is that I believe that I don't look like a good applicant on paper. Single man living alone, doesn't have a permanent source of income... I'm pretty convinced that the only reason I got this place is because the land agent felt sorry for me (and I think the place had been on the market for a little too long) when I explained my whole situation to him (also I feel like there may have been a small element of the Pink Mafia at play, but I have no hard proof of that).

The other is that I don't know how to lie... well that's not true, I can lie my ass off, but my default setting is to tell at least my version of the truth. I remember when Ludo and I first moved in together, we lied our asses off on the application... but that was much more about him than it was about me. So the things that don't look good on paper, I don't know how to "creative accounting" them.

Also the fact that there isn't one standard application across all agents is kind of annoying.

So even putting the application in didn't make me feel any better. And I feel like even if they accept the application and I get it, I'm taking a step down or backwards... or down and backwards... while paying even more rent.

It feels like no matter what place I get I'm going to have to chose any two out of enough space, the right location and the right price.

Anyway, after I put in the application yesterday I rang the moving company... which, yes, feels like putting the cart before the horse as my grandmother was fond of saying... but I wanted the ability to start packing now... partly so I feel like I'm actually doing something and partly so that when I do have somewhere I can move in as quickly as the time allows.

And thankfully the moving company said that I can adjust the moving in date... which helps when you book a move without an address to go to or a date to move.

When the guy from the moving firm rocked up (fortunately just after Ma did this morning), it turns out he was the cute one who moved me in here in the first place. And he remembered me as well, which was nice.

Otherwise today was singularly uneventful... he delivered the boxes, we did the usual shopping (although it turns out I hardly bought anything, due to still having a ton of stuff due to the aforementioned lack of appetite) then came back here to wait for the guy the owner had organised to come and measure up the windows. Now I thought that he was going to measure up all the windows... but no, he'd been through with the owner earlier in the week but hadn't measured the toilet window. Firstly who the fuck needs window treatments on the tiny, high up, frosted window on a third story toilet... and secondly, why the fuck couldn't I just have called the dude and measured it while on the phone to him. But no, I had to waste almost an hour of my Saturday morning waiting for him.

Then after he left, we headed into Arndale briefly, literally wandered around and then came back. Granted that may have been what we had done anyway in the alternate universe where I'm not being thrown out of my apartment, but it wasn't really any fun given the mood I'm in.

Oh, in mostly totally unrelated news, I went to see Tink on Thursday night after the two open inspections... and because I now need serious grown-up hair for serious grown-up business (like signing rental agreements and charming real estate agents and the like... I won't lie, I wore a hat to the two opens so that my blue hair wasn't the first and only impression they had of me), I now have dark brown hair.

The downside is that it doesn't look anywhere as natural as the colour we usually make it... and I think it's throwing a little bit of green given it's hiding the blue. But it will do for now.

And that's about it really... sorry for all the venting... it's not even as though it's made me feel all that much better.

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