I would like to title this journal entry, ‘I’m only happy when it rains� The past week has been quite intense for me; in fact, it feels like a month has passed. On Wednesday Jasmin and I moved into our new place in St. Julian’s. The lift is quite small; Jas took the first trip up with all of our bags excluding my extremely large black duffle bag on wheels. To get into our front entrance there sits a series of three sets of steps, about ten steps each set. The rain pours down, and the wind blows as I attempt to go through the entrance my mammoth bag slips away from my hand, speedily thumps down the first series, second series, third series of steps. My heart stops because situated at the bottom of the steps is a beautiful car�thump, thump, and bang�the bag stops an inch before the car. Not frustrated, just relieved I pull the oversized bag up the stairs, and I certainly look like an idiot wearing a skirt and high boots while I pull this suitcase. I remained much calmer than I would have been in the past; I had to laugh at myself. Maybe only because the two guys watching from a car across the street were already laughing! I figure it is my punishment for holding on to too many material things.
It is ten p.m.; the light bulbs in the apartment hallway are out. Jasmin and I stand in front of our new apartment, soaked and smelling like wet dogs. Ruffling through my overfilled purse I find the keys, and put it in the lock, and�we could not figure out how to open the door. The lock happens to be some sort of spring thing that has a ‘special trick� to open. We have two neighbours unsuccessfully attempt to open the door, so unfortunately we have to contact our landlord who luckily is at a restaurant around the corner. He teaches us the ‘trick� and we finally are at home-sweet-home, safe and sound. After we unpack most of our things we decide to walk up the street to one of our favourite pizza places, Piccolo Padre’s, to grab takeaway pizza and a bottle of house wine. There is a dilemma though, the blond and the should-be-blond cannot figure out how to get out of the apartment, the door seems stuck, after five minutes we finally escape to retrieve our oh-so-tasty pizzas. The television cable was still working for the evening, so we decide pizza, wine and MTV would sit perfectly right now, but we cannot figure out how to get the cable working. Music will be fine, we have the new Dido cd so finally we can relax in our nice new flat, what relief, although the rain pours throughout the night and into the morning, a kind of pathetic fallacy to enhance my sombre mood.
It does not appear that the sun has rose as Thursday arrives dark, wet and cold. I also have two essays due Friday morning. Jasmin and I take the bus to school so we can collect our emails, but we must find a place to cut keys first. Everything seems to take so very long, but we finally get to school, somehow we are again like wet smelly dogs. We wait quite a while for the bus to get home, and finally the 667 arrives, we pay our fare, hop on and head home, except there is one problem, the bus driver turns the wrong way than tells us to get off the bus in Paceville. This would be totally cool if it was a bright sunny Mediterranean day, but it happened to seem like a typhoon. The water saturates our shoes, socks, pants and coats. The drainage happens to be quite poor on the roads; water rapidly flows down the streets. Vehicles splash through puddles without attending to the needs of us pedestrians. We decide to laugh instead of cry, because we are already so soaked that a few more gallons of water every second actually makes no difference whatsoever. Jasmin suggests this could be the worst day of her life, and I remark back, “I hope this is the worst day of my life, because it really isn’t all that bad!!!� The bus that kicked us off passes by, we continue walking until we arrive home, safe, wet and happy!
