Officer Bentley’s fairly serious dilemma


Moving went extremely quickly and smoothly. Curly, one of the cleaners, decided to help me. I said, no, no it’s okay, I can do it, but she would have none of it and did all the trolley work. The little man driving the truck was much nicer than the one that I had help me a year ago, however I feel that I am still paying too much considering how short the trip was.

In any case, I am here now, as I was this morning, vaguing-out. I sat here waiting for KT Man to arrive and marvelled at the trees (at this point dormant) outside the window and a certain amount of mountain peak at the top of the W-SW window.

Things that one can immediately like about the place
* balcony
* jumbo-sized fridge. Could fit at least 3 adult bodies in there.
* 3 burners on the stove (gas!)
* bookshelves & closet space up the ying-yang
* heated towel rack (kooky. hope it doesn’t cause fire)
* a real toilet bowl. I think I’ve mentioned before how disconcerting it is to “bomb the beach” instead of “going damn-busters” like the rest of the civilised world does.

In between moments of vagueness I tried to get my head around the concept of living in a place that has more than _one room_. For a lot of people, one room in this country is the standard, but the little bungalow that was my last abode in HOJU was the same, albeit long and carpeted. The last two places in three years here also featured one room, totalling 5+ years of one room. I don’t know how I break my stuff up across the three rooms here. It’ll be strange for there not to be a computer one roll and a bit of a stretch away from the bed. Suddenly, I feel like I don’t have enough furniture.