Nomad oh Nomad
Boxes here. Boxes there. No bed still. Just good old hefty mattress. Big, big, white room. Lots of closet space. What is it now? Third? Or is it fifth? "Fourth, sweetheart," confirms Mom when I finally got the computer online again. Yes, Mom. I have moved into my fourth apartment since January this year. I had valid reasons. Honest. University had started already when I got my offer letter. The worst possible time to be flat-hunting in the big little city of Auckland. All I had was my bag pack and academic certificates I carry around from one city to the next, aiming at keeping residency status by just staying in the country. My friend from Wellington was gracious enough to offer me her mother's roof for a few weeks before I found a decent place close enough to start with. It was out of my price range and came with a much-too-young room mate whom was sweet girl, but very little awareness of the world around her. I had a good excuse to leave, explainin...