A Balance of Sorts

There appears to be balance in all things. For every kitten, there are no fewer than one hundred, hideous spiders, at least one of which will be lurking under your pillow. For every beautiful sunrise, there's a rainstorm just as you step off the bus.

Mine go a little like this...

We're paying a little less rent lately. Which is good... except that the reason behind it is that the landlord is trying to sell. So yes, a year after having to move because our previous landlord sold, we're now looking at having to find a new place for exactly the same reason. I'm beginning to feel a little cursed.

Our landlord has appeared to be reasonably easy-going and hasn't created any troubles for us, or delayed repairs (unlike previous landlords). Which is good... except he's an idiot. He's trying to sell the house with no backyard and no garage, since that space is going to be taken over by a new, double-storey townhouse, construction of which will start very soon. And when I say no backyard, I mean no backyard; the back of the house will be practically against the fence of the subdivided property. Plus, the new owners will be living next door to a construction site for the next few months. Who wouldn't want that?

The balance thing works the other way, though. For instance, I have no time for anything lately. Which is bad... except that it means I'm doing so much new stuff and learning new things and getting to know new people.

Or take the fact that I had to stuff around with a dodgy video camera and return it in exchange for a different. Which is bad (well, it's more irritating, really)... except I now have a video camera that works and that actually shoots in proper widescreen.

And then there's stuff that's just plain old straight-out good: the fact that I'll be on holidays in just over a week; the fact that I'm going to be spending a weekend with friends I haven't seen for ages in... just over a week, too; the fact that I'll be visiting the parents and consuming eggs of chocolate the week after.

So, take heart, my lovely flisters: for every piano that falls on your head, there'll be a compensating random singing montage as you walk down the street.