ready to unpack

I found a flat—thanks to a friend who saw a listing on Facebook. It’s lovely, a bit pricey, but in a great location and it’s quiet *most* of the time. There’s construction in a nearby parking lot, of course, and the pub next door gets pretty loud on the weekend. But it feels so good to have a home! I started writing this past weekend and am slowly rebuilding my routine. Found one big park and will try another tomorrow; my neighbor took me to the private park today but I don’t think I’ll bother paying for my own key. I wrote a scene that takes place in Moseley Bog so will go back there later this week to explore some more. My main character doesn’t even have a name yet but it feels good to be unpacking some of the things I tucked in my creative basket over the past few weeks. I dreamed up quite a few scenes and now they’re written down. I have a home and my words do, too.

Having an address means I could get a library card, register with the healthcare service, and open a UK bank account. I still need to figure out my utility bills but I paid for one month of wifi and that lets me work from home for now. I haven’t stopped exploring the city; last week I met a friend in nearby Bournville, which is the home of Cadbury. Stopped by City Hall and saw a paper mache egg dancing with a brass band on International Day of Birmingham. Took a walk with a friend today and she told me there’s a cinema and art gallery in a nearby park. I’m exercising again and will visit the pharmacy tomorrow. We’ll see what HRT costs over here…

Trying to pace myself. It’s hard after so many weeks—months, really—of waiting and waiting and waiting. I want my home to feel cozy now, not later, but I also don’t want to spend a fortune on the very things I gave away less than a year ago. The rug arrives this week and the microwave means I can stop eating out. Not sure whether I’ll buy a set of pots when I don’t really cook that much. And part of me does worry that I won’t be able to stay here for long…but for now, it’s pretty great. And I’m going to pretend that it’s permanent. Mine. Real.

Next week—London…