You know there are people out there who believe in the universe… and energy… and
all that fluffy stuff the general power of positive thinking. Well, I’m not one of them. I’m as far from being spiritually driven as a vegan is from bacon lard (mmm… bacon lard). I’m practical, I’m scientific, I’m… a non-believer. But you know what? All that might have just changed.
For the past eight weeks, I’ve been living out of a suitcase and am seriously this close to giving myself a lobotomy because honestly? If I’m going to have to have dig around in my toiletry bag one more time just to find that floss that’s fallen down the bottom? Don’t even ask me what I’m going to do. Because it does that. Every single night.
And for the past few weeks, any time anyone asked what I’d like for my birthday I’d respond the same way: All I Want For My Birthday Is a FUCKING APARTMENT pleaseexcusethefrench.
That’s all I want! Really.
So as soon as Panu got back, we started apartment hunting. And despite the ridiculously tough market, we scored one. I kinda told a few people but I didn’t want to go all up and write it in capital letters on my blog or anything because you know the Universe (now that I believe in it, it’s real), it also sometimes screws with you. Because it can. So I kept quiet about it, because we were going to sign the lease and get the keys tomorrow, 6 September, one day after my birthday.
But last Friday the agent called and said hey guess what? You can have the keys Monday, does that work for you?
Does it work? FOR ME?
Monday – today – is my birthday, you guys.
All I wanted for my birthday was an apartment. I screamed it, I prayed it, I visualised it, I’d secretly asked the Universe. Nicely. And look what it delivered. An apartment on my birthday.
So there’s a very real chance that I am now a believer.
ps. best birthday present ever.
pps. Panu’s mum made a gorgeous pavlova for me. And I have one candle because I’m now 1! (+31).
ppps. We did lots of birthday eating. I still need to digest the food, and then the photos.