I mentioned earlier that I was on the hunt for a new home and that I was slightly anxious of becoming homeless. It turned out I would become homeless. For 3 weeks.
I didn't find a new place in time and my then landlord informed me that they had found a girl to move into my room. Being blessed with a nice ex-boyfriend I was not left to sleep in a cardboard box in some forgotten part of Dublin as John came to my rescue and offered to take me in until I was able to find something.
I didn't want to rent a moving van as I would have to move everything a second time anyways, and there was also the added benefit that he lived about 200 steps away from me. It was a bit time consuming and quite a workout but I carried, rolled and heaved everything over to his place in the course of a few days. It left his room in a state. Bags and bags of clothes, shoes and, well...bags.
It took me 3 weeks and 28 viewings but I did manage to find something. Yes, you read that correctly. Twenty-eight fricking viewings! At some stage I thought I was going to either go crazy or drop down dead from all the stress.
My new place is a lot more central and thus very convenient. It's on a very quiet street though so I still feel very safe. I'm also slightly in love with my room as it's an en-suite. Granted, the bathroom is incredibly small, but it's mine. I'm not sure you can tell from the pictures but my bed is absolutely humongous. There seems to be stuff permanently piled onto the right side of the bed (folded laundry, the book I'm currently reading, sometimes my laptop or my camera and my bag) but as it's so big I never knock any of it over. I love it!
Here are some pictures of what it looked like before all my stuff exploded all over my room!