My apartment

It’s a triangular prism. My floor is a rectangle, and my back wall is a rectangle, but the two sidewalls are triangles and then I don’t really have a ceiling so much as a giant sloping wall with two skylights in it. It’s all fresh, white and full of light. Tiled floor, decent cupboard space, a kitchen sink with two hotplates, a microwave, a demi-fridge, television and the promise of free cable and internet. And a bathroom corner. A shower the same size as my kitchen sink and a toilet that is every bit as noisy as an aeroplane toilet when flushed. In fact, twice as noisy.
It’s funny how I seem to have lots of things I don’t need and not quite enough of what I do. There are two heaters, except that I live in the roof alcove and it’s hot up there. especially after six flights of stairs and closed windows all day. A fan is actually what I’d really like…I have more cleaning products than I can poke a stick at, for the toilet, the floor, the dishes, my hands, my body. I have a dust pan and brush, a tall dust pan and brush, a broom and yet another broom that I think is supposed to act as a mop. No toaster, no kettle and no lid for my saucepan. Although I do have two fry pans, one of which I’m sure can doubletime it as a lid. And someone’s stingey with the pillows. Although I later find out the French think pillows are overrated, and it’s a pretty normal state of affairs to not have a few pillows to prop up on. Maybe the men of France went on a pillow/cushion rampage and banished excess pillows. All of them.
After being taken for a preliminary grocery shop, I had a couple of hours by myself in the apartment. Had I known that my wardrobe would be so woefully inadequate for the following week of hot weather I would have hit the shops immediately. Then again, with all my guidebooks tossed out of my suitcase at Melbourne airport in a last minute frenzy to lose weight, I wouldn’t have known where to find said shops.