I always find it interesting to go from loving something so much; to wanting to get away from it sooner than later. Unfortunately, that's the relationship I have with my home right now, and it's not enjoyable.

I'm doing my best to remain positive and hopeful that things will get better, because they always do. Change is good for the soul, they say. When it isn't exactly what you had planned, frustration comes in waves. My living conditions are absolutely disgusting, to say the least, and I've opted out of my lease 2 months in advance because I know that we shouldn't be living among this mess (or paying for it.) My landlord has failed to provide me with a suitable home, and has yet to reply to my messages. If there was a way to pack the stench coming from my storage space (below) and send it to him, maybe he'd man up and do his job. He lives in Vancouver, so if he can't see the problem, there's nothing to worry about. Excuse my French when I say so, but go fuck yourself.

Moving is a bit of a process I'm far too familiar with; after having lived in at least 18 homes in my lifetime. I'm incredibly organized and on the ball when it comes to sorting through things and taking what I need with me. In some ways it's like a bit of a cleanse, but maybe it's fair that I've grown somewhat sick of starting over; though it is almost a second nature to anticipate it.

I've almost been here for two years. That feels like a long time to stay in one place, especially under these conditions. I experienced flooding last year as well, but figured it was a problem to do with drainage, since it stopped in mid-July, regardless of the rain we continued to receive throughout the season. I don't particularly like to complain about the weather, but the last two summers have not been the greatest. It took me about a year to accept that a huge part of my issues with the weather have much more to do with my living situation. I have wanted to escape more than often.

A basement suite lacks direct sunlight, no matter how big your windows are. The last two winters were very tough on the system, especially considering the moisture that exists down here along with the amount of daylight we lose out on. I used to love the winter, and here I've been dreading it since the day that it melted. To describe the cold that we've experienced down here, I can't put it into words. It was stupid, though somewhat comical, to be perched in front of a space heater (or oven) for a moment of comfort. I don't wish to experience another year of that.

I guess I just need to remind myself, until we get out, that it's okay to be frustrated with my situation and have those moments of impatience where I'd rather blast through time and into a place that is more positive, livable, and sound. I've come a very long way, and there are many morals to this story.

Life and its surprises are what you make of them, and when it gets bad it leaves an open space for the good stuff to come trickling in. We will find a dry and happy home to call our own, one day.

I can't wait.

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