fleeing the scene

legally, as the primary leaseholder of this sunny space, i can ask firehazard to move out. ethically, i can't stomach the idea of kicking someone out...unless he's, oh, just coming into his schizophrenia and conning rent money from me and several other tenants in the building without actually paying the rent, and leaving (literal) shit in the bathroom and dishes to rot until amphibious creatures slither out of them. (oh, how funny it is now and how enraged i was then.)

at this point in time, comparing my life circumstances with firehazard's, i think it's kinder and easier to be the one to leave. this place is difficult to find roommates for, built the way it is, and flatman is moving out in the nearish future. so i'd have to go through the housemate-hunting rigmarole at least twice in the next few months, with another big southeast asia trip wedged in between.

for three people to share this space, the personalities have to balance each other well – and at this point, i am the negative edge the bad seed the wet blanket. in fact, i am the gigantic, all-permeating mass of bad energy that needs to pack up her things and move across the hall.

and it all works out. my noise-jazz musician neighbor has been without a housemate for months, holding out for someone he likes, and after a few chats over tea he offered me the space. it's a cool little loft with a semi-enclosed, skylit sleeping space and a walk-in closet downstairs. i'll be able to stay in this little brick building, which means i don't have to give up my afternoons of listening to soothing industrial-strength fireworks that, even now, are going off in the street. (it's not even dark yet, you dumbass preadolescents!) we're giving it a six-month trial, so neither of us has to commit to anything but i can still get outta here before i lose any more of my precious few marbles.

and the moral of the story is: if you can't deal, run away.
[ed note: beware of snide advice from those high on caffeine]