I finally found a landlord who doesn't seem to suspect that I will trash the flat, keep thirteen wild cats as pets and open an underground brothel, which means I have a flat to rent. Actually the landlord is a landlady, maybe that's why? She didn't even ask whether I have pets. Which I don't. Yet...
I'm going to have my own life! I'm going to drink my morning coffee at my own kitchen table (when I can afford one) and watch TV sipping wine (both of which I will afford even if it means I have to starve). I'm going to write my novel sitting at the open window and I will feel so alive.
Welcome back, life. I was just on a break.
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