Saturday, March 21, 2009

the house of punishment

It's no secret that I really don't like this house.  Okay, I HATE this house. I blame my feelings on a number of things.

When we arrived here, I was ready to unpack, move in, and settle down, particularly after the situation in Belarus, followed by living out of suitcases for the better part of a year. Unfortunately the house was not ready AT ALL. The house was so dirty that I refused to unpack our UAB for fear that something would be ruined. I always expect to do some cleaning when we move to a new place, but this house was absolutely filthy and broken.   

Everything in this house was either already broken, or broke as soon as I touched it. 

The house just looks dirty. No amount of scrubbing or cleaning products seem to help. Although we have had people in the house, I find it embarrassing and feel the need to explain to everyone that the house really isn't dirty, it just looks that way.

We have had plumbing issues from day one. Everything from toilets that don't flush to no hot water to a kitchen faucet that won't stay in place.

It's not a good floor plan. There is a lot of wasted space and there's nothing I can do to change that.

This is not a house that a family (couple with children) would have been assigned to. Every minute that I'm in this house I feel like I'm being punished for my infertility.  

Because I hate our house so much and I'm so miserable in it, I find ways to punish myself. I realize this isn't a healthy thing to do, but I do it anyway. The punishment takes many forms, everything from not using the good towels or new sheets to not setting out the good hand soap. (Yes, I know I sound crazy) Instead of using my new All-Clad measuring spoons, I use the Kitchen Aid plastic measuring spoons because this kitchen doesn't deserve my pretty new spoons. I also do more personal things like wearing old scrubs around the house instead of my cute, pink outfits. It's getting to be ridiculous. I've tried and tried to find things about the house that I like, but there just aren't any. I'm here for another two and a half years, it would be nice to have just one room that feels finished, clean, a place in which I could relax. Sigh, maybe we'll eventually have a live baby, then maybe we'll be allowed to move.

Before you hit send on the hate mail you've just typed:
yes I know it's free
yes I'm glad to have a roof over my head and do realize that other people are in worse situations 
yes I know this is the foreign service and I don't get to choose my housing
no this isn't my first post (it's the fourth overseas housing I've had)
yes if I hadn't been PNG'd I would still be in a hardship post and loving it
yes this is my blog and my place to vent

1 comment:

  1. Are you allowed to paint? I find a coat of paint always helps freshen things up and make them your own. It might help you create at least 1 room to love.