I'm moving. Again.

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Looking out my window, the rooftops glisten white. Winter threw itself over us with what felt like little to no warning. Autumn was short and intense, after five months of unprecedented summer that stretched on for what seemed like forever.

When I joked around the last time about not being able to stay in one place for more than two years, I didn’t know it would be true this time as well. My little apartment was my fort, my safe zone, MINE. I was to stay here for a long time, not to lay my place to live in the hands of another. I wasn’t supposed to spend my time in a home that I was allowed to dwell in by the good graces of another person, being able to rip it from me at any time just by using a couple of words, like “It’s over”.

But as the first snow crunches underfoot, my apartment is in disorder. I’m packing, and I’m leaving my safe spot. I’m moving to a house, with a man and his two kids. If you told me this in June, I would have old-lady-cackled at you and said “Yeah that’s not happening!”.

Yet here I am. Moving to start a life with a family, with a little yellow house to tend to, a garden to plant things in, space to DO things and kids to hang out with.

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Space and a feeling of home has been my main gripe since I lost my first real home-home (the feeling of really belonging somewhere) three years ago, and ending up in small rooms in crowded apartments. Don’t get me wrong, I’m forever grateful for the open arms I’ve stumbled into these couple of years, but I’ve missed the house. Missed having space. Missed having MY space, large enough to live life as I wanted to. Missed having a garden to whine about weeds in, watch flowers grow, feed birds. Missed having a fireplace to warm my senses when fall comes along. Missed having somewhere to invite people for dinner without getting cramped. Missed the connection to nature that is so much more apparent when living in a house instead of an apartment.

So, having gone through three apartments in three years, I’m now moving to ground level. With a family.

That’s why it’s been all silent here for a month. With parts of my health being shaky, seven exams and a move within a few couple of weeks, it’s going be silent here for a little while longer. Then I’m back, hopefully with returned vigor, because I’m going to have a real kitchen again. A living room. A CRAFT ROOM. Shit. I’ve already got a long list of things I want to do, craft, cook and decorate.

Oh, and I’ve also, in pure anticipating and joy, brought back my inside-outside header. Because soon, I’m gonna have an outside again. Let’s hope it’s for the long run this time.

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I wallpapered all by myself!

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I mitt äktenskap var jag målaren, och han var tapetseraren (OBS, faktiska tapeter alltså). Tapeterna gick på som en smäck när han gjorde det själv istället för att vi både försökte hjälpa till och våra dyrbara finmönstrade tapeter liksom mest degraderade sig själva till något slags kladdigt godispapper med rivränder från för skarpa veck och guldfärg som löstes upp i av olyckan felplacerat tapetlim. Målningen sköttes av mig, eftersom jag inte ens behövde lägga ut papper på golvet och ändå fick ett rent och okladdigt resultat medan det såg ut som att en arg järv hade råkat kliva ner i en hink med färg, klivit ur hinken och sen försökt klösa sig ut ur rummet i fråga när min dåvarande varit framme med roller och pensel. Vi kompletterade varandra, helt enkelt. Så det var inte utan lite tvekan som jag övervägde att tapetsera helt själv i frånvaron av min eviga ex-roomievapendragare J som drabbats av den stora söndagssjukan som förr i tiden kunde definieras som bokstavssjukdomen "ADSL" men som numera går under namnet "Spela Data". Istället för att medelst logik och lockande med mat och socker försöka övertala honom att överge hans kattstinna datamys, så valde jag att helt själv tapetsera de där kvadratmetrarna som behövdes för min fondvägg.

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I över två år höll jag på denna tapet. Tur var väl det! Hann flytta tre gånger på den tiden.

Det första jag gjorde var att i bakfylledimman från lördagens tjejkväll blanda ut limpulvret i alldeles för mycket vatten, så jag i ren inredningsilska fick plasta skiten tills måndagsmorgonen kunde rulla runt och jag kunde stolpa ner på Clas Ohlson och köpa mer pulver för att blanda en mer rimlig tjocklek av lim. Sagt och gjort, det var dags.

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Slösade ingen färg i onödan! 

Och alltså. När inte limmet var alldeles för tunt och när jag liksom skarvade tillbaka att jag satt den första våden snett, så var det ju inte svårt alls! Irriterande, ja. Kladdigt, definitivt. Var köket täckt i ett fint damm av cellulosa? Helt klart. Men jag gjorde det! Jag tapetserade helt själv!

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Det tog ytterligare några veckor innan jag orkade måla klart det gråvita hörnet.

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Nöjd! Med tapet och att jag gjorde det helt själv, trots en liten bubbla här och där! 

Interior update!

Jag vet jag vet! Alla har väntat så fantastiskt länge på att jag ska kasta upp bilderna på mitt fantastiska shagpad, men nu kan ni lugna er, dagen har kommit! Alltså, jag fick feeling och städade min lilla lya ett par veckor efter min plötsliga ommöblering. Det var fint i ungefär en dag, sen kom virvelvinden Ellet och gjorde som vanligt. Så det här ett litet ögonblick av min lägenhets existens. Let’s do it!

Ja, vad är det här? Biblioteket kanske!

Jamen ungefär sådär. Hallen och badrummet orkar jag inte visa pga blaha och supertrist med beigerosa plastmatta på väggarna. Men ska jag vara helt ärlig så är jag nog gladare i hur det blev än vad jag trodde när jag flyttade in. Nu får vi se hur länge den här konstellationen av möbler håller innan jag får ryck igen.

The Final Countdown has begun

Yes! The chaos has begun. I proclaimed loud and clear to my roomie that from now on we can’t have anyone over here because the whole apartment will be covered in boxes and stuff while I pack my things and can move out.

My room is slowly peelings the layers of my stuff and kind of makes the whole moving business become just a tad more real. It’s hard to grasp that it’s happening for real when staring at a house plan or just signing a paper in front of a strange woman in an office. It’s when lamps and pictures start disappearing from the walls that it starts FEELING real.

The next phase of reality is when I pick up the keys and can step into my new home for myself. The plan is to fetch the key when they open up at 8 am, get dropped off at the apartment and enter. And then get anxiety. Lots of anxiety.

It happens every time I move. The chrisis.

Like some kind of catharsis, it seems like it’s something I need to go through every time I change my living quarters. I will hate it for two days while getting used to the new smells, sounds, neighbours, and while romanticizing my old home. Then it passes and it starts to feel better, and in the end I’ve ended up loving all my homes. Let’s hope it happens here too!

Shagpad 3.0!

New Year’s Eve 2016 may have been the sorriest excuse for a New Years Eve in my life so far. The endometriosis pains kept me in bed, getting a hug from my roomie and the house guests before and after the midnight stroke.

But! The year is now 2017. Some claim that it’s just another day after the previous day, but that’s not totally true. Now we enter the coldest period of the Swedish winter. Now, when all the celebrations had petered out and the darkness has lowered itself of the country, the unwanted snow starts to fall and the real winter dormancy set in. So what am I trying to say with this crabby post?

I will tell you!

Because the February 1st  I get my OWN LITTLE APARTMENT! You heard me! Shagpad 3.0 is in the future! My stuff that is littered across three separate storage units, one cabin and the entirety of my roomie’s apartment, will gather in my own little dwelling instead. I’ve already made plans for the interior because the apartment is, without pretending anything else, small.

So small that I was number eight in the queue for the apartment and NO ONE said yes before me, so I got it! 28 square meters doesn’t entice everyone, that’s for sure.

But for this little squirrel, 28 square meters feels entirely workable. I will have a glazed balcony, facing east so I won’t cook during the summer months. The small spaces forces me to consider the lovely aspects of compact living, which I am a great fan of. I will have a bath tub, in a bathroom with ugly yellowy plastic walls. I will have a kitchenette, and I will paint and put up wallpapers that I’ve been hoarding for two years. I will get a work space for my computer so I can use it again and live in a little apartment that is mine, all mine.

The separation anxiety isn’t all too easy, I’ve lived here for ten months and it’s been lovely. But that’s okay, I’ll keep the key to here and he’s getting my spare. He’ll get this office back when I move out and we'll see each other anyways!

So. Shagpad 3.0. Countdown begins now, 30 days left.