Moving In

I am not sure if I mentioned it, but about two months ago I was evicted from my apartment in Nicosia. Usually it is neighbours from hell, in m case it was the landlord. I never knew that I was dealing with the devil until he started screaming like a maniac at me over the phone. Of course, the fact that the nice apartment was cockroach infested, that it kept flooding or that I could hear strange footsteps did not occur to me that I could be living in the entry to the underworld, but that’s because I am busy. I am a businessman after all, even if I am a baby still! Basically it was such a bad state it wasn’t an apartment, it was a falling apart-ment! In my new house I’m changing the name to together-ment, or at least make it sound posh and use the French word l’appartement.

So after five weeks of commuting and three of vacations I am have moved in! On Monday morning. Between the hours of 6-8. Before I went to work! Seriously! I drove up from Limassol, waited half an hour to drive 1km, and pulled up outside my new block of flats called Sunrise Heights.

I always imagined that when I move into my apartment, it would be all ready for me, with plush white leather sofas, a leopard-print duvet over my double king size bed with a mirror over it and white mints on the pillow. There would be a butler, two maids, a personal trainer and a flautist (for classical music on a loop). Instead not only do I have no duvet but no bed either. I’m camping in my own house. Not that I’m complaining. I love my apartment! It’s the perfect business accessory!

Of course when moving in I was in such a rush that I dropped three of my shirts in the dirt, left a trail of underwear all the way to my apartment (I mean together-ment) and almost got locked out. Then while I was unpacking I left half my books in the elevator to which I could hear my neighbours (on the first floor I think) say ‘wow what’s that.’ I assumed they were talking about my Kama Sutra book. As I was packing so hurriedly, I threw a bunch of books, magazines and photos together in a transparent box (from IKEA). So when they were going through my contents in the lift they not only saw what I read, they saw what I liked to do, and as I had photos from my holiday, they now know who I am, and probably wish they didn’t.

Then, as soon as I was about to reclaim my belongings, a stunning business woman was in the lift wearing heals, a purplue like shirt and a big leather handbag. ‘Hi, I’m BabyBusinessMan’ I said extending a sweaty hand. ‘Hey, I’m Monica’ replied. ‘And Chandler?’ I joked. She didn’t get it. But her dog is named Joey! How funny.