My Place

[Note: This was written on Sunday night but I did not have the chance to post it until now. Apologies.]

It is probably important for me to state from this from the start: I do not particularly wish to write this entry. I am tired, I want to get up at a civilized time in the morning, and I would like to be in bed reading.

Instead, I am sitting on the three-seater couch, putting down my thoughts for posterity.

Tonight is my first night in Chez-Mick. Almost all the floors are down, this living room/kitchen and my bedroom are complete, and 271, Premier Square is now livable.

Quite a few things remain to be done: there are no electrical appliances yet, so I am still short a refrigerator; the second bedroom floor still has a small slither of flooring to be laid down; the hallway is not floored at all; the television, DVD, etc is still in Violet Hill Drive; and the coffee table has yet to be delivered. Despite all these shortcomings, a lot of stuff is here, so I figured “What the hell? Why not?”

Sitting on the couch, I am surprised by the almost complete lack of sound. The only thing I can really hear is the chattering of my laptop keyboard. There is another strange noise coming from the direction of the kitchenette, a low crackling sound indicative of small rodents, but as I am confident there are no mice or rats in here yet, I can only assume it is the sound of the suds slowly decaying on the recently-washed-and-as-yet-undried plates and cups.

I probably should go over and investigate, and I probably will. Being honest, I cannot be bothered and my instinct tells me the investigation can wait until this article has been written.

Despite my afore-mentioned reluctance, I feel it is important I get my feelings down in some form of concrete form. This is my first proper night as a home-owner and I would regret it if I simply decided that typing was too much effort.

I feel both overwhelmed and lonely. The idea of having to pay the mortgage every month is daunts. While I plan to rent the second room to help out, the onus to pay is on me. The money needs to be paid every month, a scary responsibility.

The detached, logical part of me explains that every person with a mortgage bears an identical responsibility every month, but the rest of me does not care. It is my first time in this business, so I suppose my feelings are natural.

The loneliness has surprised me more. I have always lived with people, and this place is empty, and will remain so for a few more weeks. Right now I yearn for human company of any sort, but there will be no succor tonight. I will go to bed soon.

In a few hours will be my first morning in Premier Square. My first lecture is at 1100 in DIT, so my alarm is set for 0900. I am hoping to wake earlier, but my body will probably betray me.

My family was amazing today. My father was wrecked by the evening-time, and I could not help but feel guilty by this. My father is very young to have a son at his age, but that does not assuage my guilt. He worked himself to a high level of fatigue, denying himself the day off he so desperately needs, because his son needed him too.

As for my mother, well, words cannot express her efforts. Anyone who wonders how love is displayed through action would do well to have wandered with her over the last few weeks. I think it is best summed up by the fact that she is delighted I am now a home-owner because it will now be easy to buy presents for me.

I feel incredibly indebted to both my parents, far beyond any financial one. I hope I can someday repay the financial debt they are owed, though I doubt I will ever get the chance to repay the other stuff they have done.

I am completely rambling now. I did not sit down on the couch intending to talk about my parents at all, but that is where my mind went.

Fatigue is really starting to grip so I am going to stop now.