In our last flat M and A both gradually retreated into their bedroom for reasons known only to themselves.
M, having the taste of an 85 year old buddi-ma, had crammed every imaginable knickknack into their bedroom. There was the tacky wall art [‘Worli’ art on lurid florescent colored canvases] many many plants, empty bottles collected from ‘Tramp’, empty wooden champagne cases, tea lights all over the place, FIVE rice-paper lamps from Ikea, colored throws here and there, his immense and ever growing rolling kit and of course, who could forget, The Temple of Crap, a bathroom cabinet that had been hijacked by M’s collection of cheap touristy tat amassed over 5 years in London.
A works the night shift, so both A & M have night cycles. They wake up at around 3:00pm, A goes off to work at 7:00pm and M is up all night with not much to do.
Claiming the living room was too dingy [it had dark green carpets, curtains and sofa’s with yellow walls], M began dragging off his guests up to his bedroom, while I kept mine [if any] downstairs.
This worked out great for me. The living room was huge and very bright, albeit badly decorated. And I had it all to myself [MUWAHAHAHAha!!]
NOW, in the new flat, the living room is much smaller [but bright nonetheless]. Would I have to get used to not spreading out my sketch books and laptops and actually share?? NO NO NEVER!!
While moving we somehow managed to misplace the TV remote, which makes the TV both un-tuneable and troublesome. Changing channels is a real pain in the ass for the fundamentally lazy. This means M stays in his room since his Mac has a TV card and I just don’t watch TV.
M and I haven’t ‘hung out’ in the same room for 2 years running now.
This works out great I must say.
Our conversation seems to be limited to who didn’t do their dishes. [for fucks sake, they’re not mine! I say]
Now I must sketch like my life depends on it [which it does] or Foz will slay me in class next week. [he didn’t yesterday and what a surprise that was I can tell you]