How many boxes must a man have, before you call him a man?
Over the years I have accumulated quite a bit of stuff. Mainly useless things that no one really cares about, but enough to say 'Yes, I exist. This is me.'
I moved to Preston after trying (and failing) to save enough money to get my own place I decided to bite the bomb? (no that doesn't work) and move into a shared house. Yes, I knew this would mean a number of things:
1. Moving in with a number of people I may have no common interest in or indeed like.
2. I would have to share bathroom facilities which may mean waiting to use it, which may be a pain.
3. Sharing a fridge, leading to the inevitable 'Who stole my cheese?' shit.
And most importantly:
4. I would have to spend time getting to know new people, something I don't do well at the best of the times, but when it's forced, it's almost like trying to get a lion to play Connect Four with a chicken.
So here I am.
It seems my life hasn't amounted to that much when I look at these boxes around me. Enough, but not that much. My life consists of:
2 boxes of books that I will probably not open as I don't have the storage space to put them anywhere.
1 giant plastic box that is filled with a multitude of DVDs.
1 wooden box which was empty, but now contains my towels, plates and cups and a few other bits.
2 boxes of papers, ID, Bill-type stuff
1 box full of food which ranges from cereal (obviously) to jelly.
2 bags of computer wires and my laptop.
2 suitcases and 3 binbags full of clothing and bed stuff.
That's it.
Of course this being me, the first thing I did was unpack my laptop and start to shove things generally around the space. I made the bed so that I would have a large space to use (ie to dump stuff) and then found a cup, my tea and milk.
It should be noted that when I moved in, no one was here. The Landlord told me there were three other people in the flat: A Japanese girl and a girl from Preston who had the upstairs rooms and a guy next to me. Fine. No names, but then it was highly unlikely I would remember them anyway. So it was lucky that I was able to move in uninterrupted and be able to swear like a sailor as I dropped the box of books and generally make a noise.
So despite the fact I didn't know if anything in the kitchen belonged to anyone I made myself a cup of tea. I guess I should have really asked about who owned the kettle, microwave, toaster etc. I mean, I'd hate to step on someone's toes and use their property without asking. I know that would piss me off, except being typically English, I'd just stew over it and grumble to myself in the corner.
All better now. Battery recharged and I went back to it.
What I didn't know was that someone was here while I was making all this noise. So the hours passed as I waited for anyone to come in. No sound of the door. I just wanted to be polite and say hello, introduce myself and at least get that out of the way. No one came. It got late and to be honest I was so tired I just lay on the bed and obviously fell asleep...
Knock Knock Knock!
It was much later. And for a moment I didn't even know where I was. I looked around, worried that I had been kidnapped and was now in some cell of a terrorist's mad detention centre.
Knock Knock Knock!
I was still a little puzzled, but I blearily got up and went to the door. I opened and came face to face with Sadako. This is no joke, the girl standing outside, illuminated only by my bedroom lamp and the light of the kitchen, looked like the horror from The Ring. I almost stepped back in fright at this. I didn't know what to say.
She opened her mouth. I thought 'If she makes a croaking sound like the creature from The Ring I will piss my pants right there.'
'Hello? Have you moved in?'
Her voice was fine in general. No indication that she was about to steal my soul or cause me to have a massive coronary and die. Granted the question was slightly stupid, like asking someone 'Are you awake?'
I told her who I was, (still didn't catch the name) but before I could continue she blurted out:
'How long are you going to be staying?
Hmm? How long is a piece of string? Until I have saved enough money to get my own place. Until I have saved enough to learn how to drive and pass my test and then it wouldn't matter where I live? I mean how do I answer that. I tell him I'm not sure, but that I signed a contract for six months. That's not strictly true as the Landlord didn't even have a contract when I moved in, but there we go, six months seems like a good benchmark at the moment.
She nodded her head in that way you do when you are talking to a relative about a subject you know very little about and then she disappeared back through the TV screen to go scare someone else after seven days. I was left alone. I looked about at my little cell, maybe it will be ok.
We shall see.
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