I know, I know. It has been a while. After my last post, I assume you are all thinking I was too busy actually dating, instead of just talking about it. Unfortunately, that is not true. Imagine. I haven’t even been on one, teeny, tiny date so far. In times of wanting to move house and trying to secure a job, ain’t nobody got time fo’ boyz. I guess I have technically speaking not been entirely dateless, since I’ve been meeting and messaging with heaps and heaps of strangers, trying to figure out if I would want to share a house with them. It wasn’t a tough decision though. Some of them only needed to say two words for me to leave the place/conversation faster than even Usain Bolt could: ‘vegan household’.

A lot of other interns offered me their place as they were leaving Sydney to go travel, but it usually had a big catch. ‘2-bedroom apartment, sight of the Harbour Bridge, $180 a week’. Sounds too good to be true, right? It was usually a very truthful description, but they just forgot to mention that there would be ten people sleeping in each bedroom. No joke. Even though I may have spent my first four months here living in an overpriced shithole, at least I had my own room. Yes, it was ridiculously expensive. Yes, I realise what kind of a privileged European chick I am for being able to afford such a (crappy, though overall kinda alright) place. But this is why I worked non-stop before coming to Australia. This is why I ran around as a mailman, drove an ice cream truck and did an admin job for a few months – so I wouldn’t have to share one bedroom and one shower with nineteen other people (who, let’s be honest, I probably wouldn’t like).

I only had to go and visit three houses before I found my new place. The first one was alright, but not more than alright. The second one was a rather shabby house with two roommates that looked permanently high. It was located directly underneath a flight path and when I came in, my foot stuck to the floor – and that wasn’t even the worst thing. When I stepped into the kitchen, I saw a cookbook that contained a million recipes on how to cook vegan. Thanks, but no thanks. I like a fridge that I can fill with meat and dairy and I like being able to eat eggs without being lectured on all the things that are wrong about that/me. I am, and will forever be, a dairy farmer’s daughter.

The third place, however, was perfect. Two bathrooms, well-equipped kitchen, gorgeous bedroom, affordable rent… and two non-crazy housemates. The woman who is renting out the room is really nice, driving me to and from Kmart to go buy some stuff for my room. Last Saturday, we all went to see Wonder Woman together and had a great time. I am really, really lucky to have found the place. For now. They might still go all Hyacinth Bucket meets that ‘Here’s Johnny!’ guy on me.