Heyo, House

I seem to recall a Brer Rabbit story I heard read aloud once, some long time ago, in which the clever rabbit tricks a wolf by asking "Heyo, house; Why you don't Heyo?" as though he were in fact used to the house actually speaking aloud to him... so convincingly that the wolf who is waiting inside to ambush him is fooled into revealing himself by calling out and trying to sound like a house.

It comes to mind, I think, because I have a new house to greet. Well. Quite an old house really, with some of that quirky coziness of a house that has stood a long time and been patched and updated bit by bit. But I have been here only five days.

As to the house I'm leaving... When the first roommate I waged war with there left, it was an uncomfortably novel feeling. It seems it's always me that winds up leaving when I clash with roommates. "But not this time – the ground is mine," I reflected, feeling disoriented. Well, that was then – it didn't survive the next tenant who came and took his place.

But, as I think about it, what was that house to me? What was it really but a room of my own for privacy which I had not had in far too long; and a rent I could afford for the time being; and promising at first, which didn't last past the first month? Wasn't it always intended to be temporary? Why did I stay there almost a full year anyway?

Well, never mind. The place I come to now I choose for the company. The roommate who has lived here for seven years and is determined to stay seems a promising companion, LGBT friendly and understanding. Decorations bedazzle the details - fridge magnets, old stickers and pins - with hints of nerdiness and reminders to challenge all those various foolish expectations that all people be the same and dull and perfect. My room is smaller. My rent is cheaper, but transit is now an expense worth mentioning. It takes an hour to get to work.

Yes, I have work now as well. Good honest labour for a good honest wage, pulling and stocking and tidying non-perishable groceries at a big grocery store in the city. I've been employed now perhaps a month and a half, fifteen shifts in total. I'm still learning layouts and efficiencies, but I'm pretty solid on the basic process of what I'm doing, and I'm gradually getting faster while minding thoroughness and making the necessary concessions to my poor sore body. I am anxious every day that I am not going fast enough, but I know this is disordered thinking. I also know it's okay for me to need more help than just realizing it's disordered to get through it effectively.

This past week has been... tough. My landlord surprised me by not letting me know until Nov 30th that he expected me to move on Nov 30th, not Dec 1st, and not telling me directly at all – It was left to my friendly roommate to tell me. My job surprised me by allocating me sudden shifts which had not been on the schedule the previous week on the nights of the 29th and 30th even though I asked for the 30th off. I didn't even see the change to the schedule until I'd already missed the Nov 29 shift.

And so I contacted New Roommate and made sure I'd be able to move my things to the house early, did some last-minute packing (glad I had been working on this over the previous week and had already done most of it), vacuumed the room I was leaving until it was nice and soft and neat, and took a few hours' nap despite the stress... Then hired an XL size Uber to bring me and my belongings across town. There was plenty of room and I managed the physical labour of shifting boxes and suitcases fine. New Roommate helped me stack them in the living room while their old roommates were busy leaving. I called my best friend for support and comfortable company for a little while and then went to work for the night, and for the following two nights as well, which was my first time doing three shifts in a row at the new job. I certainly hurt by the end of the third day.

Then there was last night, when I unpacked and set up my room. Today I started colonizing and cleaning the kitchen. I've done a little exploring around the neighborhood to find the nearby convenient shops, but I do not know the turns yet without consulting Google Maps.

I am... getting somewhere, I suppose I'd say. Aye, getting somewhere. Getting along in work a bit faster as my endurance and understanding improves, starting to make friends with some of my coworkers and join their banter at 2 AM lunch. Getting acquainted with a new roommate I can talk to and get that lovely sense of being on the same page. Getting back into doing a little bit of cooking, getting to know my new kitchen. Getting back to this blog after a whole disgusting half-year away. Getting all sorts of turned around on my sleeping schedule while dealing with emotions and memories and mood swings and anxiety and the fascinating surges of "nesting" energy that come to me when acclimatizing to a new house. I'll figure it out though.

So it goes. Now you knows.