History regurgitates itself

sisyphusRemember the horrible time I had in January 2012 trying to find a new place to live, exacerbated by my landlord having wrongly let me believe he could get me into one of his single-occupant places on Caledonian Road, which meant I didn’t even start looking until it was almost too late, and ended up with terrible, crippling nausea?  Well, it’s all happening again… except this time to “best mate”, as though that’s any consolation.  It’s worse for him, though, because he’s been enduring this for months now — and he really did have the perfect place in his grasp until around 6pm this evening…

It would have been very nice to have him living locally — in fact, in the next street over from the Tube station — as even though it lacked an Internet connection, it would have been cheap, I could have kept an eye on him, we could hang out more often than him driving up from Willesden Green would allow, and above all, his housing problems would be over.  He’s been couch-surfing in his brother’s flat for months now, and apart from the pain that comes from sleeping on a settee, he just wants his own room again… but finding out tonight, as his phone ran out of power, that the landlady was giving it to someone else because he didn’t have £100 on him at the time, left him feeling physically sick and unable to have pizza with me, so he went home in disgust and depression.

Rather like my finding an excellent flat in Hornsey in January 2012, only to discover a couple of days  later, after the guy had been ignoring my texts, that the place had “gone”, don’t you think?  That was undoubtedly the very worst time of my life, and the nausea I’d felt every day from Friday the 13th onwards, as a result of the horrible studio flats I saw on the 12th (a month after the infamous “Twelve-Twelve”) didn’t help my situation.  There were times I truly wanted to end it all, or worse, move back to Worthing with my folks (though at times I wonder if that might have benefitted me in other ways, e.g. giving me the chance to learn to drive outside London), and it was only through sheer determination — and, perhaps, a touch of bloody-mindedness — that enabled me to last to the end of… well, that WEEK, when I was finally offered the chance to live where I am now.

Yeah, I only had to face a week of it (though the months before and the period after were no picnic either), and “best mate” has been going through this madness for months now — ever since I kept his big incense-smelling box of stuff in my room for a while in the early autumn (in order to free space in his car before he could put stuff into storage).  Now that he’s mentioned painkillers, or worse, moving back to Ireland just to have his own room, I feel despair…

I was told during my own worst period that February is the best time to look for a place, as lots of people start changing their minds about their lives and move on to pastures new, so I can only hope “best mate” hangs in there a bit longer, and that I can help him find somewhere to live, preferably not on the other side of London.  After all, what would I do without him?  I know I wouldn’t have made it this far, that’s for sure, so I want to do whatever I can to stop him going through the same stuff that happened to me.

My friend’s housing isn’t the only way in which 2012 badness has repeated on me like a foul-smelling belch: tonight I took a Windows 7 exam and failed dismally, because the questions bore no resemblance whatsoever to those that came with the course material.  At least this time I was accessing an online question dump as practice, rather than paying to take an actual exam — I haven’t arranged the big one yet, so I’ve got as much time as I need to figure out how I’m going to pass, but it’s discouraging, to say the least.  It doesn’t help when someone tells you you’re wrong but doesn’t tell you how you’re wrong — because how are you supposed to improve?  (A problem I had at school when I tried to do the javelin and everyone laughed at me, but never mind that now…)

At least tonight I recaptured a bit of 2010’s optimism, as the webinar I was constrained to attend tonight was based on Windows Server 2008, which reminded me of studying the 2003 version during my MCSE course, and even encouraged me to get out my old notebook and realise I understood the stuff I’d noted down back then (even if I hadn’t written it down properly!).  Maybe I didn’t make the best of the situation back then, nearly four years ago, but I can correct that now, at least… but between the webinar and waiting in vain for “best mate” (I ended up having beans and veggie sausages out of a tin for dinner, just because it was quick), I wasn’t able to go to yoga this evening, which is a shame.  I wonder if things would have turned out differently if I’d been there with my pal, perhaps with an offer to run to a cashpoint…

Oh, and I suppose getting a new smartphone is a rehash of 2012 as well, but a rather better experience thus far than getting a Nokia N97 and then having it die after a couple of weeks!


One thought on “History regurgitates itself

  1. Pingback: Excessive worry | Dave-ros Lives!

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