flatmate

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Finding a Housemate

So, finding a housemate is crap at the best of times. I wish I’d counted how many people I’d do the song and dance for to present myself as a normal person, just so I could find a responsible adult to share the rent and expenses.

I just found this description of someone I had look through that 1^st house. Because sometimes it’s now you re call people not by name of how they look.

Here goes;

“Horror/Action/Gemini/Butcher/Maids outfit while cleaning/Cross dresser/Porn!

Also think this was a guy who said he would be happy to be my Carer. (help me after a shower etc)

To be clear that was never going to happen!

I don’t require my housemate to help me EVER that requires them to see me naked! Boundaries people.

Briefly, I had a woman move in who told me one thing and did another.

Then had a tall Frenchman move in who stayed a year. He paid the rent and worked away at times giving the place to myself – Bliss!

He was not, I repeat, NOT my favourite ever housemate. He wasn’t my least favourite either. But he wasn’t my favourite and I now try hard not to judge other French tourists and such by my year or so co-habituating with him.

Some woman would ask “Oh, French, so sexy!”

To which I would reply “Um?, No!” Bon!

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Then I had to move and find a new housemate!

Moving is annoying at the best of times!

Moving with a disability is a pain in the ASS!!!

What is the Game

What is the game?

My favourite housemate ever and I used to have a game we used to love to play. Firstly, when I say ‘game’ don’t the wrong idea. And when I say ‘we’ loved to play, I mean I loved it and he dreaded it!

To give you some background this housemate, let’s call him “B”, and was very relaxed. He was a roadie and I considered him a pothead. He didn’t, but he smoked a spliff or 2 every night, but what do I know? I don’t smoke.

Ok, that’s the background out of the way.

Here’s how the game works. I would start at one end of the mantel piece in the lounge and touch a finger to the first ‘thing’ asking “What’s this and does it need to be here?”

“B” would pick up “this” item and we continued. Halfway along the mantle piece he would get ahead of me and remove all the things he knew didn’t belong there.

By the end of the game all that was left were the clean plates that sat in the middle and the Kuan Yin head.

My home is not always spotless, but I try to have a ‘home’ for everything. A tidy house is a tidy mind. I generally limit the amount of time I spend in environments that make me want to blow my brains out.

I can’t help trying to problem-solve and neaten things, because it gives me a migraine very easily.

More about my favourite housemate ever “B” another time.