Things here in the co-op house are getting a little easier. I have discovered that many of my interpersonal problems can be solved by (big surprise? not really) listening more. A lot more.

Yesterday was my birthday, and I took it as a kind of personal day. I went to the mental health place in town to ask for an appointment, and they gave it to me. I also went to Mind to ask about getting support and advice. I sat in a coffee shop and drank vegan hot chocolate and a brie and cranberry panini, which may have confused eavesdroppers. And I sorted out all my rent and finances.

Later on, I was very very slow. I could only just walk, and couldn’t lift anything heavier than a pint of water, and with struggle, not for very long. But I didn’t go to bed; I didn’t want to. I very very slowly sorted through some paperwork and tidied my room and ate dinner on an armchair and then kept going. Everything took five times longer, but I did it.

This morning I woke up at 4:30am for no reason, with “Carry On Wayward Son” playing in my head and giving me Supernatural feels. I now feel extremely ready to take on the post pockets for by the front door, but fabric shops are not open at 5am and I am thwarted. How to describe them? They’re like fabric pigeon hole pockets, flat against the wall. There are eight of us, so we kinda need it, I think.

I will post a photo when I’m done, because at this fresh and perky hour of 5am I found a spot in my room that has really consistent wireless internet from two doors down. (I’m not stealing it; we were given the password for the network by a sympathetic friend while we wait for BT to fix a fault on the line.) Again with the Supernatural feels, the network is called R2DEAN2.

Oh Dean and Castiel and Sam! I want you all to be okay. Also, Castiel, come be my friend now.

Anyway, I guess I will ask Hannah if she has anything in her fabric stash that might work for the pockets, when she wakes up. Until then… Hrm. *tumtitumtitum*

NB: Since I’ve now moved house and handed in the keys to my old flat, the tag will be Golem, since that’s our co-op’s name. Here is our blawg. (Currently I’m waiting to hear back from the estate agent of my former flat about whether I’ve tidied up the garden enough to get my deposit back.)

Ahoy!

I type this from the official last night in the old flat.

I love this thing where I am open to unplanned things. It doesn’t really mean I do whatever appears, but it does mean I don’t always know what to expect. Half an hour ago I was like, “hmmmm, I should go to the flat and do cleaning tonight while I have the energy, since the keys are due back on Friday. Also Virgin Media are taking away the tech sometime after 8am. Interesting, I appear to be packing my sleeping bag. Now that I think about it, that sort of makes sense.”

I wonder if my internet will disappear at midnight?

Since I moved out and closed all the windows etc, a slug has made the most ridiculous trail across the living room floor. Whut.

I just got this fanmail from the thoughtful pookagehayes, and thought I’d share it in case it’s useful to anyone suffering from a noisey house and no buildery types or awesome budget:

For the record- the best form of soundproofing is THICK CURTAINS! They also look less ridiculous than your other options.

If money’s tight then you can just sew together a whole bunch of old clothes etc you can get from the charity shop. Bung ‘em in with some bleach/dye if you don’t want a patchwork-coloured wall.

If the ceiling’s an issue then that’s more difficult ‘cos curtains don’t work. If you’re okay with the room looking a little like an insane asylum then stick some duvets up there - nail-gun if you have wooden supports to go into, if not then pulleys in the corners of the room all holding up a net will work.

*tips cap* best of luck, mademoiselle! Let me know if you need… 

Rob told me yesterday that egg boxes glued all over your wall is also good, but he might have been lying. He does that a lot.

I am lucky enough to be able to lend some of my savings to the co-op as loanstock to be paid back in a few years’ time, so I don’t have to resort to putting curtains up all over my walls or anything. :) When you’ve got enough money and a buildery friend, putting up extra plasterboard etc. isn’t that much harder than putting up curtain rails. Also, it will look much better than pinned up duvets or the existing ugly woodchip wallpaper.

Here’s what we’re going to do in my room, which will be new-build between-homes standard of soundproofing. It’s going to be a big job, but well worth it for my peace and that of any future tenants.

1. Knock out the weird-shaped walls and put in more sensible ones, thus making my room and the adjoining room bigger.
2. Leaving a gap, put up some studwork just inside of the existing studwork along the entire west wall.
3. Wodge it full of insulation batting.
4. Plasterboard over it. (Possibly two layers, or one layer of acoustic plasterboard, which is over twice the price but may be worth it, not sure yet.)
5. Plaster and paint and replace skirting board.
6. Install dinky sink near the window so I don’t have to go out to the communal areas to wash, make tea, etc. (This will give me a lot of freedom and save my sanity.)
7. Take up floorboards, and wodge insulation batting between joists.
8. Replace floorboards.
9. Cover with layer of insulation batting, and then new tongue-and-groove floorboards. No connecting screws, because sound can travel along them.
10. Fail to put down carpet, because I have allergies and a cat and a crafty inclination.

Ta-dah! There needs to be gaps everywhere, because sound can even travel through screws and slight touching areas of wood.

This will take maybe 15cm off the west walls of my room, but the room is so big that it won’t make much difference. It will certainly cost under £1,000 but we’re not sure quite how much less yet. My lovely friend Steve will be helping me throughout, so we’ll work out a quote together.

In other news, I am not a girl (“mademoiselle” is the French word for a maiden, young unmarried/virgin female), and such words are always gendered in French. If anyone knows of the gender-inclusive French words of this ilk, please do edit them in to this awesome wiki page.

Neutral language is used for me (ie: people use singular “they” when referring to me) or none at all, but there are often ways to address people in a neutral way.

In this context, perhaps I might have said… heh, maybe dude or something like that? I think of dude as being quite neutral. Dude (n): one who is awesome.

fuckingickyricky replied to your post: The Slow House-move: yes, slow.

That pan rack is a little bit of genius.

Thank you!

For the curious, here is the pan rack that Hannah and Lloyd finished designing and making yesterday:

(link)

I am yawning as I type this!

Yesterday I badgered everyone into helping move the washing machine downstairs. There’s no way I could have effectively helped with my actual body, but I got everyone in the same place at the same time and sorted out some of the plumbing and only needed a little bit of help. When I got tired and bimbled off some people carried on without me, which was nice.

So the washing machine will no longer vibrate the whole house right over Rob’s head, which is what everyone wants in life. Also, click here to see the fantastic pan rack that Lloyd and Hannah designed and built together!

Today I have two missions.

1. Start the pan-sorting-out-system. As you can imagine, eight people from three households have a lot of cooking equipment, not to mention all the crap that got left behind by previous tenants. I believe there are four rolling pins. We installed extra cupboards and it still won’t all fit in the kitchen.
2. Go and clean my former flat. I am not entirely disgusted at the idea, because it’s my mess and I think it’s not too bad (ulp), but still. Who likes cleaning? Not me.

I am really too tired to do either of these things, so I’m going to lie down again, maybe watch some movie/episode or other.

Also, you may remember how I was feeling really unhappy because my room is big and gorgeous and also the centre of all sound in the house. This is still the case, but people agreed that I could put in some loanstock in order to hire someone to help me soundproof my room, thus making my life less horrific without interfering with the finances or the workload of others in the co-op. Here is the update to that: Hannah’s wonderful insulation brain helped me to find out what needs to be done, and we don’t need to rip out any plasterboard! It’s all totally doable and not too terrifying, and I’m hoping we can even do it in two sections so I don’t have to move out of the room while it’s going on; you know, move all the stuff into one half, work on the other, then swap.

Yesterday evening I was feeling a bit freaked out. I’d spent the whole day being very communicatey, getting people organised and having to work around lots of busy people in the communal areas all the time. I wasn’t doing as much as everyone else, but I was still frazzled. I had a little bath and then put on clean clothes and went for a walk to the shops without telling anyone, took as long as I needed to. No one noticed or cared, and I’m pretty sure no one else would have needed to do that or would have found it helpful, but I wanted to do things without telling anyone. Hopping on a train to see my mum is impossible without speaking to people because someone needs to feed my cat! So, buying a reduced-price mango was my substitute.

That’s just how it goes, really. I anticipated that I had misjudged my energy levels and tat levels, called Steve, he was up for helping, BAM all the stuff in the flat is now in my new room. Tomorrow I will have a desk, and maybe even a chair.

I was right: I had more tat than I thought, and less energy.

In other news, Hannah is making excellent progress with the pan rack with help from various people. I’ve bodged up a mirror in the bathroom with some yarn and buttons, and then I aligned the toilet seat. Me and Steve have gossiped about knocking out walls and building other walls. (Apparently relatively easy.) Sven is cooking loads of delicious vegetables downstairs in the very lovely kitchen.

We really should move the washing machine downstairs, but everyone is busy and exhausted, and it can wait.

So all I have to do is clean my old flat and then I never have to see it ever again. That will be a relief; I feel like my attention is divided because I have to give back the keys on  Thursday or Friday. I dislike having two sets of keys to juggle.

I’ve not been back to my old flat in many days. It’s been really nice to be on more or less the same level as the train station and town, and the chaos is utterly unbearable in the house sometimes but I sit it out and it passes. We have a plan for me to hire someone else to help me insulate my room for the sound and then get paid back later on, which is a relief.

So, things to do in the old house. I have a few bits to bring down, which I can probably manage in 3 tiring trips or 5/6 easy ones. I also need to get the cleaning done so it’s ready for the new tenants and I get my deposit back in tact.

Some housemates let themselves in earlier today to return some chairs, and then returned and told me that there is the longest slug trail in the world in my living room! What?? Yeurch. I am very glad to be moving out, even if my new room is a bit terrifying.

I have four days. Let’s do this thing.

*swoops out to get the rest of the tat*

I don’t like that I was so shouty and snappy yesterday.

Today things are a bit better. I’ve talked to a couple of the other co-op members, and it really does seem like us lot fixing up my room to make it more bearable is pretty much impossible in the near future. However, I can lend some money to the co-op, and get it back in a few years, and use that to hire someone else to do it for us.

Here are the things I’d like to do:

• Insulate the walls and floor to stop the noise from the hallway, adjoining bedroom and communal spaces downstairs.
• Have something nice on the floor.
• Have a little sink and draining board and worktop.

Elsewise in the house: Hannah and Lloyd are constructing a cheap and surprisingly simple ceiling-mounted pan rack; me and Sven and Flick moved the fridge downstairs, so now we have two nice and sensible fridges in the kitchen and can assign shelves; and the last of the stuff from the biggest house has been moved in, and loads of rubbish has been taken to the tip, so the house is still full of stuff but it is our stuff.

I still feel like I can’t deal with all the activity and noise and like there is no escape, but there is a meeting tonight so we can talk about it and hopefully plot things.

Last night I got really really grouchy and shouted at my housemates and was generally snappy and hideous. It wasn’t their fault.

It just dawned on me last night kind of slowly (I was awake until nearly 5am) that my room is entirely unsuitable in many ways. In shape and size it is perfect, but I am one uninsulated wall away from the communal areas downstairs, the front door, the main corridor between the front door and the communal areas, and the guy who plays loud electric guitar.

Something needs to change. Last night I was all ready to move out ASAP, but this morning I’m imagining that it might be worth gently poking the situation with a stick. I am not very good at gentle.

I’ve been there in the co-op house for… a week? And I’m doomed.

I am just not emotionally built to live with other people, I think. Or, maybe just less people, or certain types of people. But I think I have to live with these awesome people to learn more about myself and make the right decision, instead of walking blind and falling into domestic situations.

I have difficulty being around other people generally. I like a lot of time alone. In a shared house, I can spend all the time I want in my room, but going to pee and getting food and so on means it’s practically inevitable that I will be around other people. There is no escape.

I thought of a few solutions. The main one is that I could just not talk to people if I don’t want to, and if other people talking to me bothers me I could wear a symbolic hat of some description to let people know that I want them to pretend I don’t exist. But I still react to people being around me, and it is hard work. (I’m crying as I type this.) They are all so lovely, and I am more physically healthy and generally functional there, but I am not happy.

I came up the hill just now to email a photograph to someone who wants to buy my table, and it is a relief. I had forgotten what solitude feels like, even though I can have it in my co-op room any time I like. It’s no different in my flat, where there are people living on all sides of my space and I can hear them puttering about all the time. It’s just me.

Wise words are welcome. Obligatory question mark: ?