That's really why I'm starting this blog I guess. To counteract my general dissatisfaction with everything right now, which has less to do with actual shortcomings in my life and more to do with the fact that a week ago I was getting tattooed in a Harlem walk up, and today I'm crashing in my mother's spare room. Just to clear that last sentence up, I don't live at home usually. I pride myself in having struck out on my own already, this is just a temporary lay over while I house hunt and get some cash rolling (or trickling, as the case may be) back in. Another clarification - the tattoo is of a bee. Hence the travelling bee title. It's a work in progress (the title, not the tattoo). I sat down to write this and was struck by a lack of name-related inspiration. I'm hoping it'll either grow on me, or I'll one day be struck by a truly apt name and change it, so try not to judge.That's the inky bee, all the way from 125th Street, Harlem New York. It's only a day old there so it's a bit puffy and red still. If you likes it, or you fancy dropping in to visit them (they're good fun, I should post about them sometime) you can find them here at Harlem Hype.
So as I mentioned, as of this moment I am technically homeless. There's a charming man named Richard (picture him in your head now - I guarantee you he looks nothing like what you just imagined. I'll include a picture sometime to prove it) who is currently travelling interstate for work, but whom shall be cohabiting a new apartment with in the near future. It occurred to me that you might like the real estate listings for our current short list, and then it also occurred to me that then you'd all know exactly where I lived, and a girl needs to keep a little mystery about her sometimes (good girls don't give it up on the first blog post). The house hunt has thrown up some completely trivial disagreements between our respective tastes, which I find fascinating. While floor coverings is something I'm happy to compromise on (I love hardwood, don't much like carpet in living areas, he hates floorboards, loves carpet...his explanation being that he wants to be able to lay on the floor. Very odd) and distance from the city is something he's happy to compromise on (He'd rather be in a housing estate with a gate and an intercom, I want my city fringe pad, and don't care if it comes with a side order of dodgy crack house down the block) it makes you wonder what would happen if we ever came to a total road block where neither of us would back down. I dread the day babies come into serious discussion, and it's going to be a major adjustment for me taking him into consideration when making life decisions. In fact, lets change the subject, and look at some shiny shiny interiors that both make my heart melt with i-want-ness, and make Mr Richard roll his eyes in disdain.
Of the first two images, I just have to say; peeling plaster makes me swoon. Very little excites me as much as derelict buildings. I doubt Mr Richard would very much approve of me indulging that particular quirk when searching for our new place.
More soon my dears, I have so many photos I want to share!