Hey guys. My life at the moment feels like a TV show where the writers ran out of logic and decided to have fun.

I’ve spent the last three days hauling my entire existence in a tiny, stubborn Toyota, basically acting as my own moving company. Moving the plants alone took two trips. Two. Trips. For a ficus that, I’m convinced, will outlive humanity.

The new apartment… well. At first, I thought its vintage vibe could be turned into something magical. Now it feels more like a final boss. The layout is odd, the furniture seems like it was chosen at a secret circus auction, and the colors don’t match not even on a spiritual level.

And I’m the kind of person whose brain shuts down if the home doesn’t feel cozy. No comfort, no productivity, no creativity, nothing. Just me and my existential crisis surrounded by bags, suitcases, and boxes I keep rearranging like that will somehow solve anything.

The apartment is dark, too like I moved into the home of a vampire who enjoyed cross-stitch. I haven’t worked for two weeks, which adds a lovely pinch of anxiety. I have no workspace. My Pinterest is now a tragic museum of “Plans That Didn’t Happen.” Nothing is coming together yet.

Judging by the vibe, an elderly lady used to live here. And honestly… she might still be here. Energetically, I mean. Hopefully only energetically. Maybe.

But I did find some cool old Soviet pieces: candle holders, a clock, weird decor, everything looks like it has a personality. But none of it matters until I can figure out the space and stop tripping over my own life.

Right now, I’m writing this post, waiting for a therapy session, and getting ready to go to IKEA for curtains and lightbulbs. Then I’ll come back and continue battling this apartment-monster made of mismatched furniture and cardboard.

I’m slowly catching up on your messages, thank you for being patient with me.

As for the old apartment, no updates. The landlady vanished into the mist like a character from Polish folklore. A girl is temporarily living there; she’ll give the money to me, and I’ll pass it along to the landlady. The lease ends on March 31, and I hope the whole story fades away like a bad dream you retell and even you don’t believe.

No time to be sad, my brain is fully booked surviving this place and trying not to buy the entire IKEA textile section.

I can’t wait to show you how it all turns out.

Hugs and miss you ❤️