After much searching, I finally found somewhere to call my own.
No housemates, no queues for the bathroom, no waiting for the kitchen, no loud conversations through thin walls.
Then a hundred eyes blinked at me from the walls. The ceilings. The skirting boards. The windowsills.
Not being a fan of the multi-legged hell-monsters, some may have been squished and thwacked.
But being a liberal wuss, every episode of arachnid cleansing left a bloody smudge of guilt in my mind. Their only sin is being ucky and horrible and creepy and all over my flat.
So my solution: education.
If I know what sort of beast they are, and how unlikely they are to kill me in my sleep, I’m not going to want to kill them. I’m not going to want to run away screaming like a girl.
Ok, I still might do, but at least I’ll know what I’m running away screaming from.
So why not create a blog, where I investigate my new housemates and share some pictures of the lovely little fellas?