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I don't have a fitting quote for this one ...
On the whole, my first week alone was amazing. The floor in the hall wasn't done yet, there was no light in the kitchen and all I had to cook with was a single pot, but it was great. Thanks to a number of factors such as less allergens in the air, a better mattress and practically no stress whatsoever (to only name a few), I slept better and had much more energy. I could concentrate better and going outside was suddenly not a problem anymore. Showering was easy. I never got bored. BASICALLY IT WAS AWESOME OKAY. :D
My wrists became terribly dry because I wasn't used to doing the dishes by hand and my feet hurt because I wasn't used to not wearing shoes inside, but eventually I adapted. I visited Timo every single day and probably played with him more than when we were still living together. I enjoyed being able to do whatever I wanted whenever I felt like it, and not having to worry about things being Potentially Dirty because I knew what was clean and what wasn't. Since I didn't have much money left after buying a vacuum cleaner and such, I even discovered that €15 could get me through an entire week if I was careful.
Then I suddenly couldn't eat wheat anymore.
...
Yeah. I actually laughed, you know. I don't know why, but my first reaction was this kind of hysterical amusement. Of course that would happen right after I'd finally managed to get the hang of living with lactose intolerance. Of course that would happen while I was basically broke and thought I'd figured out how to survive on €15 a week. WHEN ELSE. GOODBYE, CHEAP BREAD.
While I was still unsure what was going on, there was a day on which I cried for hours and hours, mostly due to the debilitating stomach cramps but also because I was scared. And possibly mourning noodles, while fervently hoping it was something else. It wasn't. When I finally stopped eating anything of the kind, my stomach felt better immediately and the rest of my body within two or three days. That could hardly be a coincidence.
I have since been tested for Celiac Disease (gluten intolerance), but either that's not it or the doctor made a mistake. Like, I don't know, maybe forgetting to tell me that I still needed to be eating the stuff for it to work. I have yet to ask him, since my next appointment is not until two weeks from now because I thought I'd also have my lactose intolerance officially confirmed while I was at it, and something went wrong with that test. >_<
Scraping the money together that I suddenly needed to feed myself for the rest of the month wasn't easy, but fortunately I had help. I also ate a lot of rice, and I was extremely grateful for all the positive effects from moving out that I still felt. Without them I would have been screwed.
(Ironic icon choice is ironic.)
My wrists became terribly dry because I wasn't used to doing the dishes by hand and my feet hurt because I wasn't used to not wearing shoes inside, but eventually I adapted. I visited Timo every single day and probably played with him more than when we were still living together. I enjoyed being able to do whatever I wanted whenever I felt like it, and not having to worry about things being Potentially Dirty because I knew what was clean and what wasn't. Since I didn't have much money left after buying a vacuum cleaner and such, I even discovered that €15 could get me through an entire week if I was careful.
Then I suddenly couldn't eat wheat anymore.
...
Yeah. I actually laughed, you know. I don't know why, but my first reaction was this kind of hysterical amusement. Of course that would happen right after I'd finally managed to get the hang of living with lactose intolerance. Of course that would happen while I was basically broke and thought I'd figured out how to survive on €15 a week. WHEN ELSE. GOODBYE, CHEAP BREAD.
While I was still unsure what was going on, there was a day on which I cried for hours and hours, mostly due to the debilitating stomach cramps but also because I was scared. And possibly mourning noodles, while fervently hoping it was something else. It wasn't. When I finally stopped eating anything of the kind, my stomach felt better immediately and the rest of my body within two or three days. That could hardly be a coincidence.
I have since been tested for Celiac Disease (gluten intolerance), but either that's not it or the doctor made a mistake. Like, I don't know, maybe forgetting to tell me that I still needed to be eating the stuff for it to work. I have yet to ask him, since my next appointment is not until two weeks from now because I thought I'd also have my lactose intolerance officially confirmed while I was at it, and something went wrong with that test. >_<
Scraping the money together that I suddenly needed to feed myself for the rest of the month wasn't easy, but fortunately I had help. I also ate a lot of rice, and I was extremely grateful for all the positive effects from moving out that I still felt. Without them I would have been screwed.
(Ironic icon choice is ironic.)