An indirectly delightful prospect of being back in a dingy, blank dorm, however, is having no choice but to decorate. This meant that for the entire afternoon I got to do three things I love: organize, analyze, and cut/rip things up. I've been working on this (below) since I finished unpacking (a process which didn't take very long, considering I have no hangers right now.)
It's not finished yet, but it's getting there. The magazines I've been collecting stuff from are so random -- but I kind of like the effect! And I don't want a scrap of that ugly burgundy burlap showing through, so it will continue.
A closer look, if you care to see:
I also decked out the board above my desk, but I won't bore you with pictures. It's turned into a weird conglomeration of comfort memorabilia; old photographs, my lucky rabbit's foot, lists of books I'd like to read, and a magazine clipping of the New Zealand Rugby team's Haka dance.
I managed to find a home for Billy Boy on my radiator.
All in all the room's a dream. The five hours between check-out at the hostel and check-in here were spent reading (and trying to pay attention to) Henry James, rearranging computer files, and answering several odd questions of a very enthusiastic middle-aged Australian man. Ergo, I had plenty of time to do what I do best: worry. I was certain something would go wrong in my application process and I'd end up back at the hostel. Or that I'd have an unexpected roommate, or be placed on the ground floor, or run into a second Chen...
But as is usually the case when I freak out, there was nothing to worry about. Everything here is great, and my days of noisy bunkmates, stuffy rooms, and smelly towels seem to be over for the time being.
The furniture's new and nice, not like the gross rotting 60s wood I remember from UW rooms.
I have a sink, a sizable closet, and decent curtains. There's a pleasant little view of a local coffee shop from my window. I was even supplied bedding, an ethernet cord, a desk lamp, and --get this-- an electric kettle! Gotta love the Brits and their priorities.
Mind you, I'm not too keen on sliding into these sheets. They remind me of hospital masks.
But if I stay up any later I'm liable to get into that baguette again.