I had yet another late night—a little after three in the morning. At about 10:30am I started hearing this loud, urgent knocking on our front door. This place is mostly floored with lino, so the knocks bounced around the flat making it super loud. I peeled myself off the bed and clambered about for my clothes, all the time getting annoyed at the loud, persistent knocking.
Man, who the hell was it!? I was on my way to the door, quite annoyed, and said, “alright, fucking hell, I’m coming!” I heard a gentle female voice shout “sorryyyyy!” coming from behind the door, at which point I knew it was my support worker—oops.
I let my support worker in, and she kept apologising, but the urgency was for a good reason! My flatmate is being moved on to his own place. I have mixed feelings about it. I am pleased for him, don’t get me wrong, he’s lucky to be going where he is, but I can’t help but to be really gutted because he’s a friend, and things are really settled here. There’s no arguments about cleaning or who did this and who did that; to quote Todd Howard, “It just works.”
Luckily, my flatmate mentioned that it’ll be alright because he can visit his other friend, his dad, and me, at which point I was relieved, and told him as much, since I was worried this was gonna be the end of that chapter.
Who will I end up with next? I’m worried I’m going to end up with another person like my last flatmate who made living at that place hell, so much that I lost my temper with him, after which I flat-out refused to live there and ended up somewhat homeless for a couple of months. I’m due to be moved on out of here myself, so I just have to be patient; it’s just all the stuff in-between that worries me.
On the bright side, at least I’ll have somewhere else to go. Isn’t positivity grand?