Slice of 2024 life ig (ﾉ_ヽ)

I write this cross-legged on my bed in the middle of the cluttered, messy room. Unable to choose which task to do first, do I sort my clothes out? Do I wash them now? Do I start with the bedroom? No, I will have to sleep still. The bathroom it is then—but I will be using that before heading out as well. The kitchen? Already emptied.

This is all so sudden. Nothing is planned, yet I’m weirdly calm. Eerie. I found a new room to rent fast, the cheapest and quickest option to move to. As I was expecting, it was beautifully horrible, just utterly miserable. The guy renting me the room, Mr. Brown, looks exactly like the house. Late middle-aged white guy, scratchy beard with an annoyed squinchy look. He resembles a sailor or a pirate, and talks like one too. Burpy loud voice, scared me to death when he screamed “HEY” while I was hiding from the sun in front of the door waiting for him.

I step inside the living room (if you can call it that) and it’s mayhem. Cans everywhere, pillows scattered, random blankets thrown left ‘n right. Greeting me were also the ribbons of warm, overused wool and couch sweat, and cigarette ash odors, with a sweet soda drink finish from all the residue on the table. Quite the combo really. Then we had to pass the kitchen to head to the stairs up to the room. As soon as I stepped in, I got slapped with a whiff from the kitchen: a pungent mosaic of stagnant water, rusted pots, freezer ice, damp towels, warm refrigerator fumes, and unwashed dishes. It transported me to the kitchen of my uncle, who’s a camel herder; he had all the craziest shit going on in his kitchen, and it always smelled horrid to me. It smelled exactly like it, so much so that I didn’t even ask about my shared space in the kitchen. I just sprinted towards the stairs.

We walk up the dusty black metal stairs and are met with a small window at the end of a tiny hallway. I don’t even think it’s a hallway; it’s literally just a square, with two doors facing each other on opposite walls. We enter the left room. It’s even smaller than in the pictures, but the layout of the room is super cute; it really has potential. There was also this random-ass microwave in the hallway, plugged into the other room (which a guy lives in). I was so internally shocked that I didn’t even ask many questions; I just told him that I’d contact him soon.

I contacted a couple more listings with no reply. I desperately need to move out. Fast. I return from work so tired and achy, with no energy to do anything, let alone pack and carry stuff around. As if that weren’t enough, I got on and off the wrong bus today, after getting six big folded boxes from the liquor store. Heavy as fuck. Held the bundle with one grip of my right hand while balancing them on top of my head, while also carrying my backpack on my right shoulder, and left hand holding up my skirt. I was in my village girl self. Had to walk 40 minutes back though; my right shoulder and arm hurt so bad that it became pleasurable. It hurt so bad it felt good.

Yeah… I’m definitely taking my time with this damn move.

-❥Lumi