We moved house today.
It wasn’t the most enjoyable day of my life, but it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. When you haven’t moved for eight years, you accumulate a lot of random detritus without realising it. We now have a house that’s so full of boxes you can barely walk around, but at least the kitchen is mostly usable, and we have a bed and, as of half an hour ago, a curtain pole and curtains in the bedroom. Before the past few years, I moved so often that anywhere feels home after a night or two. I’m sure this will be the same. And I’ve spent so much time here decorating over the past few weeks that I’m already quite used to the place.
I won’t miss the old flat, or paying a landlord to sit on their arse and profit off my labour. About the only thing that will be hard to get used to is having to be at home for deliveries.
Goodbye greenhouse windows, always freezing cold or boiling hot.
Goodbye storage heaters, completely useless at maintaining a liveable temperature.
Goodbye gimmicky round windows that don’t open or close without superhuman effort.
Goodbye sharp door handles; never again will you scrape the skin off my forearms.
Goodbye partition walls between flats.
Goodbye snoring neighbour, clearly audible through the wall.
Goodbye neighbour doing karaoke to There Once was a Windmill in Old Amsterdam in the wee hours. Twice in one night.
Goodbye GU10 spotlights, always burning out, never providing useful light, and an absolute bastard to change.
Goodbye bathroom fan, louder than a jet at takeoff, yet moving less air than a fart.
Goodbye shower screen. You couldn’t stop the water, but you did provide a nurturing environment for mould and limescale.
Goodbye awful sofas, worn out, collapsing, and squeaking at the slightest movement, but preventing us from getting anything better.
Goodbye pathetic kitchen cupboards, all three of you, none big enough for a pan.
Goodbye kitchen tap, too low to fit anything under, dribbling a stalagmite around your base.
Goodbye world’s loudest laminate flooring, capable of amplifying a pin drop into an apocalyptic crash.
Goodbye rooms smaller than they should be because it’s cheaper to just add some beading when installing the floor rather than replacing the skirting, and hey, it’s only the tenant who can’t put furniture up to the wall.
Goodbye smelly drains.
Goodbye pigeon shit caked balcony.
Goodbye having to take the lift.
Goodbye ridiculous lift arrangement, where none of the lifts goes to all the floors.
Goodbye lifts always being out of order.
Goodbye five minute commute just to take out the bins.
Goodbye bin juice in the lifts.
Goodbye rentier parasitism.