Saturday, December 17, 2016

Home Alone

This year faced me unexpected challenges, since August I’ve been faced (and I’m still, I admit) beating not only heartache and lovesickness, but also tasks coming with living alone. Of course it was a big step to move out my parents’ place, but thourouhgly being on my own, that’s a whole different ballpark figure. From scattered socks to not waking up in time for Monday morning. And there’s also…

…the thing with cleaning up
Living on my own means nobody’s there I can share my household with (or have to, always a matter of perspective). Nobody’s responsible for anything – expect myself. And somehow I’m better in excusing my own mistakes, if the dishes aren’t washed, clothes all over the floor, food I miss in the fridge or if the dustbins aren’t put out. And only very good friends are invited spontaneous, they understand my mess. At least they say so.

…too much month at the end of money
Nobody likes talking about money, especially I – there are so many better topics – but who lives in a (bigger) city knows: Living isn’t a snap. No matter if alone, with your partner or in a LC – if you don’t want to live far away from the party or in a dump from the Seventies, or in that kind of flat only students drinking out of plastic beakers lived in – you have to pay a third more than in such areas you need a car to manage your daily life. Besides there are party nights, which aren’t paying themselves (at least the entry…), birthdays (don’t forget!) and sometimes piggy bank is hungry, too. Paying all these things is kinda way more relaxed as a ‘we’.

…the matter with small talk – what’s that?
Sometimes I’m telling stories ten times (different people, clearly), I’m talking, and talking, and talking, without interrupting, no matter how well I know my opposite, I can talk a mile in a minute, about kinda everything. Sometimes about really deep stuff, often it’s stupid nonsense. Although I’ve always been thinking I’m not good in talking about nothing with strangers I’ll never meet again. Nevertheless – it’s going well. Things always seem to happen when you least expect them, or how do you say that?

…lack of space
It’s like: My stuff requires about fourty boxes – my stuff, not my furniture, just my stuff. That’s why I’ve been looking for a two-room flat (okay, and for friends who stay overnight). And I don’t fully use it. I'm just saying: I’m sitting either where the food is or where my laptop is. And yes, often combined, whereas my favourite combination is bed and laptop, even if I got TV now (for all this great and stereotyped Christmas movies – without them it’s not a real Christmas), so I’m using the living room more often. And yes, my couch is comfortable, that’s not the problem.

…and there’s the stuff
- and I really got way too much of it. Carrying fourty boxes cross Graz and bringing them back again was a clue. Lumbering up a totally empty flat another. But seeing what I really use and what’s only dust catching was… I mean – I’m paying rent for a room full of stuff I don’t really need. Of course I seperated out many things. And there are things I didn’t buy for my household although I had them before. It’s possilbe to toast toast without a toaster. Making microwave popcorn without a microwave. I need much less I always thought I do – especially concerning clothes. Nobody needs a new pair of shoes every month. Really, nobody.

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