And another thing -

Seriously, I just want one thing to go smoothly. Just the one. I don't think that is too demanding, right?
I acquired the keys for my apartment today, ambled my way up the hill and rapidly established they were the wrong set of keys. Informed estate agent over the phone in no uncertain terms that they were going to be the ones who charged up the blasted hill with the correct set of keys - which they did, after telling me with an undue sense of hilarity in their voice that the landlord had changed the locks and, ha ha, they'd forgotten.
So I'm finally allowed into my apartment - that has been, according to contract, painted and cleaned for my arrival. I have never painted a room in my life but am fairly confident that with my eyes shut I could have done a better job. In fact, I'm fairly confident my nine year old niece could have done a better job. Part of me almost feels inclined to paint the damn place again, because I'm going to be spending a year looking at those walls and the mess in some places is going to wind me up no end. On the cleanliness front... I am not the tidiest person of all time, but I do care for a spot of hygiene underneath the teetering piles of books and clothes. I made the foolish mistake of trying to shift the microwave from its ridiculous position and instantly recoiled as my fingers rubbed against what must be a year's worth of grime and grease. The table hasn't even been dusted, for heavens' sake. The drawers have the previous tenant's rubbish in them. When closing the blinds in the bedroom, a puff of dust shot out from between the slats.
And to cap it all... I've spent a fair portion of my last week trawling around the unmitigated hell that is IKEA. I chose a bed - not the cheapest, not the ugliest, a fairly decent, potentially elegant looking bed. I went through the rigmarole of ordering the stupid thing, arranging to get it to the ferry pier at a decent time and acquiring an (unwilling) accomplice to aid me in getting it up the hill. The landlord informs me he's found me a bed. Which sounds like good news, so I speed off to IKEA and cancel the order. Only to be confronted by my future nighttime companion in all its hideous glory. I can't decide whether I should get hold of serious quantities of sandpaper and deal with it that way - hopefully removing the peeling paint and either repainting it or leaving it as plain wood - or demand that he remove the godawful item and I go back to IKEA and sort things out that way. Suddenly, the dodgy bar and dodgy wire-rack seem less of a problem.
I know I can get the place looking decent and generally acceptable, but it is going to require another marathon effort that I really don't have the energy to make. The plan is to investigate the possibility of acquiring a couple of Filipino chicas to clean the place properly (and they wont darn well get paid til I think they have done); I'll pay them what in my world is close to nothing and what in their world is close to a small fortune, and everyone wins. I will feel like the ultimate middle-class prat for paying for cleaners, but if it solves a problem then who cares.
Now all I need to find out is that the internet company wont be able to come on Sunday, which is the only time I'll be able to be in the apartment all day, and therefore I'll exist for the forseeable future in a decidedly disconnected manner. Which is the final nail in the coffin of impending depressive spiral. It is at times like these when I wish I had someone else around to take some of the slack, deal with some of the problems, and get things done. It is at times like these when I start loathing all the guys who didn't stick around because I'm too much like hard work, and I start regretting banishing all the guys who would have stuck around.
However, I exist in the full knowledge that it is at times like when the apartment is done and ready and sorted that I wont want some bloke clogging it up and undoubtedly getting on my nerves, so ultimately I just have to remember that. And on that note, excuse me for a few days while I go beat my head against the brick wall that has been placed in front of me yet again.
Ow.