When I am visiting my parents, I feel like I can do my routines in whatever order I prefer. And I love it, I feel like I am a rebellious teenager again and I can do whatever I please!
It's just that I have a real hate/love relationship with my apartment; sometimes I love it and sometimes I hate it.
It feels like everything around me is covered with a thick layer of boredom, bleakness and sorrow. I wish I could move away from there, but I know that things won't get better.
I guess it just takes a little while to settle in. I guess I have to wait until my apartment starts feeling like home.
I have tried to pep my apartment up a little, placing rugs on the floor and hanging colors on the wall, but materialism doesn't seem to help at this point.
If I had to make a list about the things I hate the most in my apartment, well, first of all I hate the grey linoleum floor. It's such a dull color, and it always seems to be grimy no matter how much I sweep and hoover and mop it.
I also hate the piles of dirty dishes always piling on the counter. Sure, I could wash them up, but I never have the motivation to do it.
Another thing I hate is how no one is ever waiting for me, no one to shout "Honey, I'm home", no one to hug me and welcome me back home. Every single time I return to my apartment, it's always so dark and lonely.
I guess I spend a little too much time inside. I wish I had some place to go, a job or a school.
I could also visit some places during daytime, art shows, libraries, shops and other places, go for long walks or bike rides, but the problem is that nowadays I always sleep late and wake up somewhere at half past two in the afternoon when it's already getting dark.
I hate my life.