So the time had come. I had settled into my
two-bedroom apartment that has a balcony looking onto the ocean, right opposite
probably the best public pool in the world. After having the best housemate
possible last year and been living by myself for nearly two months, I was incredibly
nervous about finding someone to share my home with. After much internal
deliberation, I put an ad up around StD’s and one on gumnut tree, as many who
eventually called me called it.
I wasn’t sure how I should conduct the
auditions to be my housemate. Would the contenders have a mystery box challenge?
Or would they sing to me with my back towards them and if I like them, I’d buzz and turn around(minus the Delta
cringe factor)? I settled on a ‘come check out the place and let’s have a cider
on the balcony’…
I was overwhelmed by the amount of couples
who enquired about the room. This sat uncomfortably with me. Not only would
they change the dynamic considerably, they also take up more space. Sex noises
also could have been an issue. I tested this out by playing some National
Geographic YouTubes on the laptop in the available room and then sat on my bed
in my room and listened. They may as well be fucking in Collingwood…
There was the man who was a bouncer at some
clubs in the city. Too Nocturnal.
There was the chef at the casino. He was
not interested in sharing food.
There was the nurse closer to my mom’s age
who refused to sit down and chat and was only interested in testing the aircon
in the room. Antisocial much?
There was a lovely guy from Italy with his
funky Eritrean girlfriend. They exuded excellent cohabitant energy.
Unfortunately, they got a gig working in
a hotel which put them up as well.
And then there was another fun couple. He
was a German backpacker who had been gallivanting around Australia in the van
he currently called home. She was a local Territorian who worked in crocodile
jumping. They had checked out the room and liked it. We sat on the balcony and
she goes, “There is something we need to show you.” I was thinking “OMG, what
on earth could she possibly want to show me?”
I thought she must have a third nipple. She opened her bag and out popped a joey. A
JOEY. A JOEY, AS IN A BABY KANGAROO. A JOEY CALLED MOGLI. She has this thing
where whenever she sees a dead kangaroo on the highway, she checks the pouches
to see if the baby is still alive. Then she nurses them for a while and then
lets them go once they are ready. Mogli was bloody cute. He did a few hops on
the balcony, scratched his belly and then, when he had had enough, he jumped
back into the bag/pouch. It wasn't going to work out, there was a clause on the lease saying no pet
kangaroos.
So for now I have settled in by myself. The
room is available for all of those who said they would visit. No pets though.
Sex noises….? I guess we will have to
see.
