In my anxiety and depression, it was very difficult to accept the news that I had to leave the place where I had been living on March 10th early this year, on a 15 days notice. Not because I loved the place but because I started TWO new jobs in February and was barely copping with everything being new, all rules and management.
So I had no time to look for a new place, a very tight budget until I got paid for the first time in late February and an arranged schedule for daily commuting that I couldn't change anymore... So I took the first offer I got, two blocks from where I was; same bus stop, same rent. Great.... right?
It took me about 3 to 4 days to notice there was something odd about the movement in the house. The owner said it was a residence for mostly young students who had classes in the afternoon and evening at a nearby university. It made sense. Until the late doorbell rings and people, mostly men, shouting at the door appeared.
I got the room next to the front door, so it was inevitable to notice that there were one too many late night calls. I said to myself.... well, if I could go back to my twenties I would relate..... But I couldn't shake the feeling of disgust out of me.
I thought it was because most residents were young people who just couldn't care any less about taking the trash out, or cleaning for that matter. Last Thursday I was woken from my daydreaming by one of the neighbors who told me, without any remorse, that I was occupying a room in a house that served as rental and brothel.
It took me about 2 days and a lot of talking to my friends to process this. Thankfully, my instincts caught up early and I sent notice of cancellation of contract 2 months ago, I only have to put up with it until the end of May.
Nevertheless, lesson learned. Next time, I'll run to my sister's house first, never mind the commuting, to think of a plan thoroughly....
My start of the year has been awful. Remember, anxiety is a bad advisor.