Prudent or paranoid?

Well, earlier this week I finalized my first draft of the blog post for the company’s intranet. Turns out the CEO’s assistant is on holidays, so the HR manager offered to send it directly to the CEO. I’m not sure if she has, and I’m not sure what he’s going to say, but I hope it will be positive or at least some constructive criticisim.  Will keep you “posted” (pun intended).

In the meantime, onto the story behind today’s title:

Twice now I have laid in bed and thought someone was tapping on my window.  (I found the window in the common hall open once, and there are no bars or screens, so if someone wanted to jump out onto the roof, they easily could … it’s a flat one, and my bathroom and bedroom window are just to the left of that window.) Anyway, here’s how it goes:

 “Tick, tick, tick. [slight pause]. Pfffffsh.”

My breath jumps out of my chest and scurries under my bed. My heart plays a rapid congo. One eye bolts open, the hairs on neck and arms stands at end. The second eye opens, and all I can hear is blood rushing through my ears. My eyes take in the bathroom window, my bedroom window, my nightstand, my floor, the bedroom door, and over. My brain screams “hit the floor!” and “Turn on the lights!” and “Turn off the lights!” at the same time. I lay there like that for a good minute until I hear nothing more. I slowly sit up, climb out of bed, re-pull the blinds shut, re-check the window locks and dowl rod-stoppers, and crawl back into bed. 

Now my mind wanders. Was someone really outside? If they were, what would I do? If I had a heart-attack from just thinking about an attacker one of these nights …  what would I do?

Turns out, I think, that each time it has been my bedroom door opening slightly – where it’s no longer sitting tightly in the doorframe, but laying just against it — because the wind has shifted through my apartment.

I know I am safe – I have an alarm system, there are security dowl-rods in each door and window frame, and most of all, I live on the top floor of the building. Even the elevator doesn’t service my floor, it stops at the floor below.

Anyway, I think these are normal fears that sometimes cross over into paranoia.  I look at it this way – if one day I find myself in the worse case scenario at least I have a plan. And in my book, that’s better than being caught without one.

Home, at last

The past week was a whirlwind of life happening. The good news is that I’ve learned that I can manage through crappy situations as a resident of Europe. The bad news is that I ran into a number of crappy situations in the first place!  I’ll just point out two, because the first relates to the title of my post, and the second is just an example of on-the-fly craftiness, ha.

1. I was about to sign a lease for an apartment near the EU Commission, and as I began to tell people my good news, a) colleagues had worried looks on their faces and told me which streets to avoid, and b) the landlord asked me multiple times for cash (not cool). At about 5 p.m. after talking with one more colleague, I broke down and decided that this apartment wasn’t for me after all. I told the landlord I just was not willing to do business with them. (Sidenote: I considered blogging the nasty response I received from the landlord’s rep, but at the end of the day, the response made me that much more certain that I didn’t want to work with them.)
2. After realizing that I needed to be back on the market for apartments, I had to work late on Monday, which resulted in me being over an hour late for my French class. On my way home afterwards, I broke my shoe. I was literally a half-an-hour away from home, with a broken sandal.  Fortunately I had many bobbypins in my hair that day, so I used them to “pin” back together my sandal and made it home. Crafty, right??

Okay, so you’re sitting there thinking, “Steph! Get on with it! Why is this post titled ‘Home, at last’?”. I’ll tell you why: after spending all day yesterday online looking at advertisements, playing with different search options, trying to respond to French advertisements in French, I received a phone call. The woman was calling about a place I had sent two emails to, and she mentioned that she had a tenant-couple lined up and who were haggling slightly too much about the conditions of the lease agreement. She said, “I would much rather have you if you like the place, because then we can talk about Chicago!”  And boy, did we when I viewed the place this morning!

I’ve pasted a few pictures here for you to get a sense of the apartment. I love it, I really do. In fact, at one point I got so happy that I nearly cried. It just felt like home. You know? The landlord additionally offered to give me a day to think it over, and to come out to my office at the end of the day tomorrow so we can sign. Then I get the bank agreement on Tuesday, we schedule the “professional assessment” for Wednesday, and I move in at the weekend, as the soonest.

So, at the end of the day, I ask you to please keep your fingers crossed. I really like this place and it would be a big disappointment if it didn’t work out.

New rides fore-tell new digs?

I think I’ve caught a bug. I think it’s called the ”Holy crap, there are so many new things to do” bug. Why? Well, for one, today I attended my first day of French class. I also rode the No. 54 bus for the first time.  I picked it up right in front of my office and hopped off it about three minutes away from my class. Today I also found out that I am approved to become a registered resident of Brussels – and apparently this is the first time in my Commune that the police didn’t physically see me at my address (which is usually the only way to get approval). Cool, huh?

But let me get to the point of today’s post. I have been contemplating two apartments located in the EU area of Brussels.  One of the first reasons I thought it felt homey is because the street name is “Rue des Patriotes” (hello, Mel Gibson is one of my favorite actors and he played the lead in the Civil War move “The Patriots”).  Then I realized I passed a bar called “Dreams” (this ought to ring a bell for my fellow Homer Glen/Lockport folk).   Finally, it’s near several parks, a “lake,” and several methods of transportation – INCLUDING the No. 60 bus.  Now, anyone who knows public transportation in Chicago knows that the CTA’s No. 66 (so close to 60, right??)  is called the “Chicago” route, and I used to live on Chicago, in Chicago.

Are the stars aligning, or what??