Friday 20 May 2016

Foxxie II

You can read Foxxie I here. Now let me tell you the second part of this story:


Before moving in I have to go to the flat, because Foxxie and Muggie are nervous about having a new housemate and they want to know me a little. I have coffee with the three of them and that's when I learn that Foxxie works in human resources and that she is one of those professional, independent women that have a glass of wine in the living room while still wearing their jewellery. The rejection this girl makes me feel and the sensation that she is an entitled bitch are something instantaneous, but she is actually nice, so I think that all this might be just unjustified prejudging.

After convincing my soon-to-be flatmates that I am not a psychopath, I grab all my things and move into the ridiculously small room that used to be Daisy's. The place has carpeted floors, which I find extremely disgusting, but apart from that the house is pretty great.

It's interesting to see how people live. You get to know a lot about them. About Foxxie and Muggie I learn that they like to eat healthy:


Vodka! Yay!

And that they are plant lovers:

Plant last watered around 1993

The first days Muggie is not around, so I only get to talk to Foxxie, who is absurdly kind to me. I never get any actual answers because every factor in the universe can be bent to my will.

Me – Do you guys share the milk?
Foxxie – We can share if you want.


Me – Ehm.. better not; I drink a lot of milk -this is from before I knew UK milk sucks-, so you would be running out all the time because of me.
Foxxie – Then we don't share, not a problem.

OK. Cool. Purely based on prejudgements and intuition I deeply dislike this girl, but it looks like she is really making an effort. Maybe I'm wrong and she is a good person.

We even have one or two decent conversations in the sofa or in the kitchen. I don't really see the relationship flowing much, but well, the girl is nice.

And then Muggie arrives.

Muggie asks me how I'm settling in, she gives me sightseeing tips and in general she is super nice. She has what must be the most annoying voice pitch in the entire world, she repeats a pet word in every single sentence she pronounces -YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAH- and she looks like she has approximately three and a half brain cells, but she is really really nice.

But!

I start to see the real Foxxie!

As soon as Muggie is an active part of the flat, Foxxie starts to openly ignore me. The feeling I get is that she talked to me before because there was no one else and she was bored, so as soon as someone else has arrived she has just forgotten about my existence. Muggie is kind, but when they are together they don't pay the slightest attention to me.

I start to feel extraordinarily out of place. It's uncomfortable for me to be in the living room because I am evidently interrupting my flatmates' long sessions of hysterically laughing with the adventures of Carry Bradshaw and her glamorous and sexually active friends.

It's not that the idea makes me angry; they are friends and don't know me at all; it makes sense. But it's still annoying to live with two people who want to be on their own all the time and who think your place is anywhere but with them. Moreover, it doesn't look like they are trying too hard to include me.

Anyway, September arrives and I go to San Sebastian for ten days. While being there, Daisy contacts me.

The landlady has decided she won't be renting the flat any more. That when the two months that are left in the contract are over, the girls and I have to get out.

Well, screw you too, landlady.

As it turns out, the law forces landlords to give six months in the house to the people who just signed a contract for their property. That means that if they put me in the contract now, in two months, when it's time for me to leave, I can chain myself to a radiator and just refuse to leave altogether. So the landlady says that she is not willing to risk it, that she won't put me in the contract at all, not even for those two months. And, in any case, in two months tops I will be needing a new place to live.

How, for God's sake, is it possible that I am so bloody unlucky with London housing? It is seriously something to think about already.



Third and second-to-last chapter of this mess next week. Be happy.


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