It’s decided, I’m moving out. The guest house life has been far less traumatic than I expected, but I do have some gripes: mainly space. Maybe you already know this, but real estate in Tokyo is like a fraction of the size of it’s western big city counterparts. Exhibit A: my rabbit cage.
I’ve got a pile of clothes that’s falling over because I have no closet or dresser to put them in. And it’s not because I’m too cheap to buy one either. There’s just nowhere to put it! In fact it’s blatantly obvious that the room I live in used to be one room, but the company split it in two to get more rent.
That’s why I live right next to the front door, and I can hear when everyone comes and goes — whether that’s at midnight or six in the morning. There’s also this…scooter guy who comes to our neighbor’s house every morning at about four. Not only does his stupid noisy scooter wake me up, the security light above the door turns on, flooding my room with an abrasive orange glow. This light also turns on when a cat or a bird or roach or microscopic bacteria pass by it.
Yep, it’s definitely time to move on, and this time next week I should be in my very own apartment.