From homeless to homeful

I found a house! Hoorah! I'm moving this weekend. Which is bittersweet.

SWEET

• Living out of a suitcase has gotten very tiresome and messy over the past four months.



• Now I don't have to spend all of my free time cruising Craigslist for housing that cost less than my firstborn and yet is not on par with living in squalor.



• I can finally take all my kitchen gadgets out of storage. Which gives me far more pleasure than it should.



• I will have my own space wherein I can walk around in my underwear. Which also gives me far more pleasure than it should.



• I will live approximately 28 seconds away from Commercial Drive and five minutes away from work.
  

BITTER

• I hate packing. I have already moved nine times in my life, four of those times have been in the past year and a half alone. Certainly I've reached -- if not exceeded -- my moving/packing quota for life. I should be exempt from any further relocation endeavours from now on.



• I will miss my new roommates. They are an enjoyable bunch. We have dinner together and then argue passionately about politics and race issues talk about our days over Hobnobs and tea.
  

THE RETURN OF DRAWRINGS
(TO COMMEMORATE MY TENTH RELOCATION)

affordable housing never looked so good

complimentary peanut doesn't know his english pastries

~g.mango is happy to accept this lifetime achievement award for nomadism

Bon français

Wow. Ça va longtemps que j'ai parlé français. Et puis, mainteNOW je ne peut peux plus le faire.

There is not enough French in Vancouver. Unless you count the radio. And people look at me funny when I have conversations with the voices coming out of my dashboard.

Oh, I am still une sans-abri of sorts, if you are wondering. Sans domicile fixe, et tout ça.

So, if you wanna buy me a subscription to L'Actualité, or send me a frenchman, or really, offer me a good place to live, I'd be happy.

Tantôt! Baguette! Flocons de maïs!