Farewells

Today is the final day I have in the house.

I can approach this in one of two ways. One side, I can lament having to abandon something that I worked so very hard on, and on the other side, I can make light of the situation and get the hell on with life.

Let’s see how it goes.


My old humble abode

One thing that has struck me is how things seem to be mocking me.

When I owned the house, I spent ages digging around in the backyard to make it presentable, but it never really came to fruition. The plants would struggle to grow, due to the reactive soil. I tried treating the ground, fertilizing etc. but I simply deduced that my green thumb had been amputated.

But since the house was sold, the garden started to bloom. Even the things that weren’t native to Australia.

I toiled over the backyard pond, trying all sorts of treatments to get the murkiness out of the water. I couldn’t even see the fish at one point, such was my disgrace.

But since the house was sold, the pond has cleared up. It is now crystal clear.

My toilet had this annoying habit of continuing to flow after flushing. You would have to depress the button on top again to stop the water from simply flowing through (I haven’t described that all too well, but it’s not really important).

But since the house was sold, the thing started working properly.

It’s just amazing how these things just seemed to fix themselves… right after I didn’t own them anymore. The pessimistic would think that somehow they were responsible for these things, and that anything that they were responsible for always breaks…

But I like to think that it’s a coincidence.

The increased rainfall due to winter has watered the plants properly, the wintry sky has reduced the amount of sunshine that hits the surface, therefore not promoting the growth of algae, and the colder temperatures have caused materials in the toilet to contract and function properly.

But the real kicker is relating to the fuckwits over the street that have been holding recovery parties at 4am during the week. They have woken me up numerous times over the past three months, since they first moved in.

I would’ve loved to have called the cops, or to have walked over there and asked them to stop... but… you know… the whole idea of walking up to giant men with no neck doesn’t appeal. You know… the cowardice thing.

However, last night I get a notice in the mail, and I paraphrase:

“This notice is regarding numerous complaints of the noise from a property in your area. We would like to inform you that the tenants in the property located at [address] have been notified that they cannot play loud music between the hours of 10.00pm and 6.00am.

If the noises from this property continue during these times, we encourage residents to contact the local police on [number], and assistance will be provided.”

Yours sincerely

Some policebloke

You’re three months too late, fuckhead…


See ya...