(no subject)

[nny]

I have such house envy at the moment. I keep staring at/into people's houses like a creepy creeper, pining after my very own kitchen, and living room, and space. I miss getting up as noisily as I wanted, and not being judged for what I ate, and being able to leave clothes on the floor when I was late for work, and having a door that closed, and doing yoga. I so very much want my own space, space for my books and my life; it feels like I'm on the edges of someone else's at present and nothing can fully start for me.

I'm not sad, for the record; I'm actually rather happy today, if in a soft-around-the-edges sleepy way. I'm just pining.

In happier news, for dinner I had caesar salad, smoked salmon pate on gluten-free toast, followed by a little Gu banoffee desert thing. Nom. :D

Comments

[forthwritten]

I know what you mean. Currently I'm skint because no one in this house apart from me can pay a bloody utilities bill ("yeah, I know it says 'final court notice' on it but they don't do anything about it") and the three of them came to £500, and someone pulled out the plug to *my* freezer (the one I brought from my old flat) so the stew I'd frozen went bad and there is frozen juice pooling at the bottom, and someone keeps leaving the door unlocked all night. I so want my own space - a kitchen where no one's going to leave a pot of stew on the hob for over a week so it goes rancid, a small office for my books and desk, a bathroom that doesn't have shaving stubble stuck to the tiles and hairdye staining the floor.

Sigh.