In about three weeks, I will be getting the keys to my new appartment. And by new, I do not mean “brand-spanking” but just “next”. This will be my 13th appartment since I started living on my own at the tender age of 17 (and no, despite being a magnet for bad luck, I am not really superstitious). So, according to my calculator, that is an average of living 1.8 years in every appartment.
Ok, I will concede that spending less than two years in any given place may seem a bit euh, unstable but, not withstanding that as a child I moved around much more than that so I suspect this kind of runs in the immediate family, it is only an average. There were actually a couple of places I lived in up to three whole years (because I was probably in a relationship at the time) and some I did not make it past six months (because, you know, nothing says “get the fuck out now!” like cockroaches or redneck-drug-dealing-biker neighbours, among other things). Not that I have anything against rednecks, drug-dealers or bikers but having them all rolled up into one scary package and living in the appartment across the hall is kind of overwhelming.