The Blackening

Yes, you can now officially call me insane: after only four months of living on my own, I’ve moved house. AGAIN.

Why has this all happened? Well, life was a lot different earlier this year. I’d just broken up, was feeling somewhat sorry for myself, and was convinced living on my own was the best thing to do. INCORRECT! It was too expensive and immensely boring. Just like a Catherine Deveney gig, basically.

After wondering out loud if I should have moved in with a housemate instead, my mate Matt piped up that he’d been looking for a housemate too. Within what seemed like hours, we’d found a new pad in St Kilda, although it had been left in a somewhat interesting interpretation of “clean” by the previous owners.

From the carnage left behind, it was clear the old residents had vaguely attempted cleaning the place up, but instead degenerated into a final farewell party that involved someone kicking the bathroom door in. They also seemed to have valiantly attempted to change the locks on the front door on the cheap, as I swiftly locked myself inside the apartment by accident and had to await my housemate’s rescue. We’re still battling out the cleanup job with our new real estate agent.

What’s so great about living with Matt is that I’ve finally found someone who’s in sync with my accident-prone and clumsy being. Although we berate each other for walking into cupboards and accidentally slicing our fingers open when chopping up vegies, we usually manage to hurt ourselves simultaneously. These types of events aren’t uncommon:

Me: (accidentally spilling drink onto rug) SHIT!
Matt: You’re the most accident-prone person I’ve ever met. Atrocious.
Me: You’re far worse than I am.
Matt: Am not. (sits down and knocks entire tub of dip onto rug)

Oh, that bloody rug. It’s been loaned to us by a friend of Matt’s for the year. Dear reader, can I strongly recommend you never purchase a white rug, ever? Even after we painstakingly attempted to keep the bloody thing clean, it’s already slowly morphing into a dull, muddied grey after mere weeks. My new strategy is to turn the rug completely black by the end of the year and hope the original owner doesn’t remember the colour they originally purchased.

Now that I’m a little more settled after the move, I’m intending on posting a little more often. In the meantime, if you’ll excuse me, I have some Vegemite to “accidentally” smear on our rug.