and the universe laughs

and the universe laughs.

i may have said, one too many times, “universe please take care of this apartment thing, i can’t do any more.”

because yes, new landlords picked us to be the new tenants. they turned away from the missing paperwork that we can’t provide, the revenue statements in a foreign language with foreign currency.

In order to find a new tenant for this apartment they’ve just purchased and renovated (and they paid, no joke, 17,000€ for the painting alone), they accept files from interested parties, and then they can pick who they like, based on things they prefer. of course, you’re not allowed to discriminate, but we’re a particularly appealing couple (except for the strange self-employed ways we make money). we’re professionals, no kids, no pets, no smoking, and we want a big apartment for just the two of us.

the new landlords had shared with us that some people were smoking as they entered the viewings, some people wanted to divide up the lease (into baby micro-leases) so that 3-4 roommates could share. Some people have 3 children  — and there’s nothing in the world wrong with children. but in a building filled with old people (the woman in this new apt had lived there 50 years till she died a few months ago) — so in a building filled with old people, renters with children get endless grief about the normal noise they make, until they eventually leave. These are not insulated buildings, we hear everything from all sides up and down. i can tell when my downstairs neighbour sneezes. no joke.

and the universe (who knew what i was unleashing here), yes the universe delivered me a phone call this morning. from our current landlord. the downstairs sneezing neighbour wants to buy this suite where we are now, the suite one above him, and then later in some imaginary future, turn the two apts into a duplex. He’d like to buy, and for us to remain as tenants here for 5-10 years.

yes. true. went from zero to two apartments in the space of hours.

if it wasn’t happening TO ME, i’d say “wow, she’s so lucky. that kind of shit never happens to me.”

how much have i changed since being sober? enough to know that i can read people better. i don’t talk over people as much. Mr. B says that we “present well” … that people like us (Mr. B is adorable, so that helps). i think i’ve figured out how to just be myself with people, and not try to posture or convince them of anything. the long talk we had with the new landlords earlier in the weekend obviously worked. they picked us (and to be fair, they shouldn’t have, we had incorrect and incomplete paperwork).

dear universe. i’m so fucking ready to step out of the way and let you do more shit. i will do my part — continue to be sober — so that i can see what happens next.

(and to note, to celebrate our good news yesterday, we had little tartlettes from the bakery, no thoughts whatsoever of other ways of celebrating. in my mind now, treat = cake).

plum crumble + blueberry cream cheese