…and one in
Of course with Andy moved out, the place was feeling a bit empty. More to the point, the rent ain’t gonna pay itself, so we had made some enquiries towards finding his replacement. As it happened, this was not very difficult at all since Laura’s old flatmate from Glasgow, Kjetil, was up for coming to live in Holland for a while. I was certainly very happy indeed to have a familiar face moving in, since I have learned through traumatic past experiences that you never know what you’re getting into when sharing a house with strangers. My standards are pretty basic; pay the rent on time, keep it fairly clean (but not too clean), and don’t steal my things. Other than that, I am pretty fucking flexible.
It’s nice to have somewhere in a tidy sort of state when moving in to a new house, so since Kjetil was arriving this evening I thought it would be a good opportunity for an (early) spring clean. The inside of the fridge in particular was pretty disgusting, and the bathroom also needed quite a bit of attention. I can’t say that I am very fond of cleaning, but when you get into it it’s actually not so bad; the fact that I need to sit down and work on my thesis for the DAI certainly made any kind of diversion such as this much more attractive.
So then, around 11pm there comes a ring at our from door, and it’s Laura and Kjetil. “This is weird!” remarks Laura, and with good cause; we three have many times sat at home in the same living room, but now it’s in another country. “Welcome home!” I said to Kjetil, for want of something better to say. He looked a little shell-shocked, and I couldn’t help remembering my very first night after arriving in Holland. It’s a weird, weird feeling to be thinking “I live here now!”, and nothing like being on holiday. Here’s hoping he fits in OK.
