Olivetti 45 — Another Monday morning started with Astertjie frantically searching for her hair straightener 15 minutes before she needs to be at the office.
Why? Because dear sisters enjoy moving stationary hair tools from where they need to be for no apparent reason. I believe the last time we spoke I told you how happy I am to be under my parents’ roof – I did not, however, say that I’m as content with my siblings.
SputNic is cool … He stays in his corner with his Alienware laptop and plays speletjies and does IT projects while the sisters have a tiff over who-knows-what.
This morning? A straightener. Tomorrow morning, probably a hair clip or a borrowed cardigan or my make-up. I don’t wear a lot of make-up, los my paar goedjies uit!
I thus believe the time has come to skrop my eie nessie. I have a bed, dinnerware and cookware and a single sofa to my name, and a possible fridge. Hopefully my straightener, once I find it. However, as we all know, I’ll need to find a suitable roommate, maybe someone like SputNic will be perfect, keeping to their corner and only creeping out for food and the occasional chat. It can’t be him, though, he’s 16 and doesn’t earn his own geldjies. I want someone with class, a neat person with a comfortable personality and a willingness to cook with me and drink wine with me while discussing literature and have equal crazes about music and allow it to blare in the early morning hours. Someone suitable. Hmm. Let’s try to get this wanted ad in order here.
Roommate wanted.
Will be judged by amount of alcohol consumed and genres of music enjoyed.
No, now it sounds like you’re looking for an alcoholic band member, Astertjie. Scratch that.
Roommate wanted.
Must cook and have own car. Smokers and occasional drinkers welcome, will be judged on music taste and insomnia.
Some kind of looney bin I want to open, hey? Metalheads sleepwalking through the apartment, drinking gin and ashing their cigarette everywhere. No-no. Clean it up, Astertjie.
Roommate wanted.
Clean, flexible male or female with own car. Smokers welcome. Preferably a music-lover.
Can’t help but imagine an anorexic, smoking ballerina Mozarting it up or a gay male contortionist (or stripper?) practicing his moves in the living room. Perhaps my imaginings are reminiscent of too many hours of playing Sims and watching too many college movies.
Maybe I just want another sensible person to share a living space with me during the few hours per day that I spend in my future humble abode. Maybe another journalist who understands the drinking and smokes and types up a frenzy with good music in the background and stacks of books to put coffee cups on.
Or, maybe, just anyone who can afford their half of the rent.
