Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Please check out by 10am...

On the very first night that I moved into my apartment, I had a massive freak out moment. My darling lover came around, and I screamed, "OH MY GOD, THIS PLACE USED TO BE A MENTAL INSTITUTION."

His correct response would've been to tip me over, and charmingly say, "Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn!" But, being the amazingly steady and stable-minded man that he is, he looked around and reassured me, "No, I'm pretty sure it used to be a hotel."

I'm not sure if that is an improvement on a mental institution, but my new place is certainly a bit odd. Oodles of space in the bedroom/lounge area, a balcony and an aircon. But there's no rangehood over the minature stove and I swear my Fisher-Price pretend kitchen as a toddler was larger. There's no overhead light but a row of flourescent lights around the perimeter of the room, and one of those odd Kleenex-branded shiny tissue box holders in the bathroom. It also has a nifty toilet roll holder that stops every two sheets to prevent you from stealing too much toilet paper. I fucking pay for my toilet paper, thank you very much, so this is a bit bizarre. There are security cameras everywhere, elevators (what kind of three levelled apartment complex has a lift???), excessive car parking and an empty reception area in the lobby.

So yeah. This blog post doesn't go anywhere. I just felt like bitching.