Monday 25th May – 6 months, 9 days
So I’m considering my housing options. I’ve got two friends of friends who want to check out the room; I’ve got one friend who wants to check out the room and / or househunt with me; and I’ve been offered a room in another house (that would be my friend, the nun).
Sitting on my bed at 6.30pm on a Monday evening, earplugs in but still listening to the dogs fighting, baby screaming*, roosters crowing, motorbikes revving, builders hammering, billiard balls clinking, and worst of all, crappy Indonesian music blaring, I do wonder if it isn’t just best to move out. At two different friends’ houses last week, it struck me just how quiet they were. And how much more relaxed I was as a result. (I haven’t felt bad looking for a new housemate because my bedroom gets much more of the noise – the other one is much better.)
One acquaintance, who said she’ll have a room going in July, said her place is all-around great except for the fact that it has ‘noisy traffic’; frankly, I have dreams about the 7am Barry Drive traffic in Canberra that used to gently wake me up. Oh, to live in a place that *only* has traffic noise!
- I can now tell the difference between ‘normal baby’ cry and ‘someone is torturing me’ cry. I don’t know why the neighbours slap their babies to make them scream, but they do.