Last night was the regular Thursday night ToyTown drinks, of which I don't think I've missed one so far in my time here (not that I'm an alcoholic or anything). All in all it was a rather pleasant evening, sat around laughing for about 4 hours, cuddling Daisy (a wee excitable little doggy before you picture me taking advantage of some poor drunk girl recently arrived in Berlin) whilst getting rather pissed. The pissed part though, wasn't so planned. The idea was to have a couple of drinks, what with working the next day, and to be fair to myself that is precisely what I did. Its not my fault that the bar tenders idea of a reasonable amount of vodka (a shot or so) is a little larger than most peoples (ie. more than 50% of the liquid content). After one I was mildly tipsy, after two I was steaming.
So today has been a combination of working, sitting on the balcony in my grundikes reading a book by Charlie Brooker and sitting in the coffee shop drinking my regular large Mocha (I don't even have to ask the staff for it anymore. I feel like Norm from cheers, though without having just eaten 2000 donuts). Oh, all that and recovering from the unexpected hangover, they do seem to be so much worse when they're a surprise.
Apartment wise I've made a decision. After a couple of months looking at shitholes, overpriced shitholes, nice places in shitholes and one nice place in a polished turd of a street (ie. could be a shithole, but its not quite there) I had my options. One, move into a new apartment. Buy a few grands worth of furniture, washing machine etc. Sign up for all the year or two long contracts for day to day essentials (internet and such) and the long term lease on the apartment. Or, two, stay where I am now, pay a little more for the privilege and not have to sign my life away for said year or two or go through all the hassles of buying furniture (don't get me started on the additional pains I had just trying to get a desk and chair from Ikea, the cunts).
So, when I put it to myself like that, it wasn't too difficult to decide. Why spend all my time and energy moving to Berlin permanently when the moving part of this whole plan wasn't and isn't the main point. Breaking out of a stuck-in routine, having some fun and figuring out where to go/what to do next is, so that's what I'll be doing. It is just far too easy to get lost in the forward motion of doing stuff to be 'getting on with it' rather than stopping to think if what you're doing is really the best use of your time.
But, I've grown quite accustomed to my current accommodation and despite all the hassles of getting said Desk and Chair from those who we shall not mention again, its fricking good having a place to work/not work (the only thing that was really missing from the apartment before) :
My favourite picture finding of late is this, a poor doogles that's had enough of his miserable life and has decided to end it all 1920's silent film style :
Poor thing.
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