Home is wherever I’m with you (and have my own room, kitchen and bathroom)

As everyone who’s been within a mile from me at any point knows, out living situation over the past 2 years have been a bit bumpy. I’ve gone from genuine nativity and ignorance to hardcore depression and back, about 7 times. I’ve cried about it, I’ve sworn about it, I’ve prayed about it – nothing worked. We’ve tried, We’ve given up, we’ve said we don’t care, we’ve ignored it, we’ve made it out top priority. No flipping change.

And so, one day getting to a point of just being dome with it all for about the 37th time, having had builders in our home for 4 month, no bedroom door, a naked landlord swimming in our pool and getting scammed on an apartment and 600 pounds – it happened. Andreas parents sad “hey, we’ve got some space we can convert into an apartment” apparently tired of having us in their kitchen every other month with the latest home-disaster story. And so they started. There months later it was done deal. We could move from my aunt (since we by this point had gotten kicked out from our rented room) and in to our own basement-flat. Voila!

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Nu får ni komma hit och dricka kaffe!

/j

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