The Flatmate

I started to write this little update a few weeks ago but then I sat on it after I was interrupted by the subject matter at hand – namely my flatmate. Yes I have a flatmate and not the one I expected to be won over by my amateur impression of an all knowing landlord. She hardly said a word as I showed her around the flat, just nodding her head and with the occasional "uh huh" as I showed her each room. Her vocabulary didn't increase as I pointed out the local amenities from the balcony. So when she nodded again and said "Ok, well I’ll call you and let you know", I assumed that it was a dead sale. "I'm never going to hear from you again, am I!?" I wanted to say, which is why I was surprised to answer her telephone call later that night. "Hi, I liked your place, is it ok to move in next week?" I took a deep breath. It was an intense weight lifted. The pressure of not working and wondering where the next mortgage payment is coming from now greatly relieved – at least for the moment.

The day for her to move in came around very quickly. I wanted to create a good first impression and so decided to clean the flat from top to bottom, and that’s before I even started on moving my things out of the spare room.

I have never before been so thorough when cleaning. My mother and my ex girlfriend especially would be proud and in the case of my ex, would more likely have been slightly put out that I was never this thorough in the past. I opened windows and dusted and vacuumed and moved furniture and climbed over furniture and lifted furniture and cleaned under furniture and sweated and ached and coughed and sneezed – the price for not being thorough in the past.

Finally it was done. Everything that needed packing was packed, everything moved, everything cleaned and polished. The whole flat was gleaming and pristine in a way that it hadn’t been since... well since before I bought the place anyway. I’ve never been so proud of my hard work or more satisfied at having a bad back.

And then she arrived, with a big smile and a “Hiiii”. I popped into the kitchen for a well earned cup of tea and to get out of her way as she moved her things in. I had just put the mug to my lips as she joined me in the kitchen. “Hi, do you have a mop at all?” “A mop? No I don’t actually. Why?”. “Oh it’s ok, I’m just a bit asthmatic and I wanted to give the room a bit of a clean.”

She has been a perfect flatmate though. A perfectly benign flatmate actually. As the weeks have passed she has been very easy to get on with. She doesn’t make any noise – she just comes home and checks her emails and watches television and that’s it. She doesn’t eat apart from cheese and crackers which means that the only person messing up my pots, my pans and my kitchen, is me. She visits family every other weekend which allows me to take full advantage of having the place to myself. All in all it has worked out very well and has given me the space to concentrate on looking for work and free my mind from a certain degree of worry. I will admit that’s it’s also been pleasant to sit at home on an evening and have someone to talk about the day with who is easygoing and quite pleasant company.

Then one night just over a week ago I was sitting on my sofa with a cup of tea. I had just sent off another CV and was watching the evening news, feeling reasonably satisfied at having had a productive day. She popped her head around the door of the lounge. “Hi” she said.”You know my rent’s due tomorrow?” “Uh huh” I said with one eye on the news . “Well I just thought I’d let you know that I’m giving you a month’s notice and I’m moving out”.