Last week, on the 13th, marked a month since I moved into my little flat, and I have to say, I feel like I’m starting to get settled in. The feeling of being settled was definitely helped by finally getting WiFi installed in the flat – I near died of boredom during the wait – and with some help from my Mum, the addition of furniture meant I could actually get some of my stuff out of their bags and boxes.
Overall I would say that this move has been fairly painless, but there have been a few stumbling blocks. Today I thought I’d write about the expectations I had for my flat, compared to the reality one month on.
Expectation: my flat would be full of furniture vs reality: I’m still sitting on the floor.
So, long story short, due to a bit of a mix-up in the HR department, I didn’t get paid in September. Plus, payday is on the 25th of every month, so I’ve actually not been paid for October yet either. Needless to say, I’m feeling the pinch. Praise be to the graduate overdraft, it’s a lifesaver.
Needless to say, buying furniture isn’t high up on the priority list when I’ve got to make sure that the bills are paid and there’s food in the fridge. I’m lucky that my Mum was generous enough to purchase my sideboard, half wardrobe and chest of drawers, so I actually have somewhere to hang my clothes and store my CD collection.
I also spotted three dining chairs in the window of a charity shop, and at £2.50 each I couldn’t risk losing out on them. However, until I’ve been paid a sofa bed is too big an investment to make at the moment, so I’ve thrown some pillows on a folding portable mattress, and that will have to do until my bank balance is back in black. (Cue AC/DC in the background.)
Expectation: I’m not going to be able to cope with noise from my upstairs neighbours vs reality: it’s no worse than student living.
I was a bit nervous about being in the basement flat, partially because I had nightmares about noisy upstairs neighbours hoovering at 4am and stomping around in clogs on wooden floors all hours of the day and night.
Thankfully, apart from one morning when the neighbour dropped something heavy on their floor and woke me up about 5 minutes before my alarm, the noise of their footsteps has become pretty easy to get used to. There’s no music or TV noise audible from my flat, no housework at unsociable hours, and no screaming arguments or ridiculously loud sex noises – all of which I’ve lived through in my student houses.
I think having a downstairs bedroom two years out of three at university has prepared me for living in a basement flat. Thankfully, everybody in my building is a mature adult who knows how to be a considerate neighbour. Success!
Expectation: I’d feel bored and lonely all the time vs reality: I enjoy my own company even more than I used to.
Even one of my more introverted friends seemed surprised that I’d gone over a month without socialising with anyone, aside from workplace banter and the occasional conversation with the sales assistants in Lush. Sometimes I do miss living with other people, and I do miss seeing my friends on a regular basis.
However, the fact that the flat is 100% mine is AMAZING. If there’s laundry everywhere, it’s because I need to buck my ideas up and put it away. If there are dirty dishes to wash up, they’re from my dinner. If there are toothpaste marks in the sink, it’s because it fell off my toothbrush. I don’t have to constantly pick my way through other peoples’ mess, and because of this I’m so much more comfortable in my own space.
I can walk around naked if I want to. I can cook whatever smelly food I want without worrying about anyone judging me. I can listen to music until 3am – quietly, of course, wouldn’t want to disturb the neighbours. I can shower at midnight. I can do laundry whenever I need to. I can fill the fridge up with face masks. In conclusion: I’m living my best life.
Plus, now I’ve got internet in my flat I don’t have to worry about feeling lonely. I had the best Skype catch-up with two of my best pals last night, and I’ll be doing the same with my Mum later on today. Even if I haven’t had anybody to stay with me yet (I wouldn’t be a good host if I expected friends and family to sleep on the floor) thanks to the wonders of the internet all of the important people in my life are never too far away.
Expectation: having a wetroom would be low maintenance vs reality: OH MY GOD MOULD EVERYWHERE.
I had really high hopes for my first wetroom experience. I worked as a cleaner for a year and a half, so I’ve cleaned my fair share of bathrooms in my time, and I can safely say the bane of my life is limescale riddled shower screens. I thought cleaning a wetroom would be a doddle: no shower screens, no soggy shower curtain, simple.
Boy was I wrong. My shower room doesn’t have a window, and when I first moved in the extractor fan was clogged with approximately 5 years worth of dust, so it was about as useful as a child sucking steam out of the bathroom through a straw. Hence, mould started to build at an alarming rate, especially on the cracked wooden cabinet.
Plus, normally in a bathroom mould only really forms inside the shower or bath itself. But because water gets literally everywhere in a wetroom, in turn there was mould all over the damn place. Under the toilet seat. Behind the sink. On the back of the bathroom door (who on earth thought it was a good idea to have a wooden door for a wetroom?) It was everywhere I turned.
Thankfully, I managed to hoover the worst of the crud out of the extractor fan, asked the maintenance guy to remove the mould-magnet wooden cabinet, and now I leave the extractor on for at least an hour after every shower, and use a squeegee to direct most of the standing water into the drain. And now I’m not breathing in mould spores constantly! Hooray!
Well, that’s all for this update. Can you relate to my experiences of living alone? Leave me a comment – it’d be fun to hear other peoples’ stories. Until next time, see you soon!
New Job New Flat 