Well, here I am. Check-in were amazing to me: despite their super-finely calibrated scales showing that I was in fact a whole 10kg over my limit, the woman was like "Well, your luggage is a little overweight, but I'll let it through anyway."
Any hopes of making it through the subway without sweating like a beast were shattered when I hauled my bags over a step and one of the wheels broke off. So the next half hour was spent dragging what felt like a dead mule behind me. Thankfully the trains from the airport to my flat were fairly direct, and there were lots of escalators, so it could have been worse.
My flat is pretty cool and my flatmate Kogo is SO NICE!! Not only does he actually talk to me but he's got a sense of humour too! Such a vast difference from that butter-monitoring, empty package-collecting freak amongst freaks that I had to live with last year. Still slightly traumatised from the Japanese co-living experience of that time, I tentatively asked Kogo about rubbish recycling rotas and he just looked at me and was like "whatever." I could have hugged him.
However, we have a homeless person living in our sitting room. It's the guy who was in my room before me (and still was when I arrived, which kind of pissed me off). He's staying here for another week or so until he can find a new place. But I wonder how quickly he's going to find a new place when all he does is sleep all afternoon and watch TV all evening. He's one of those 20 year old, hair-dyed-white, sullen Harajuku boys who needs a slap. Even though I don't really have one myself, I really feel the urge to shout "get a fucking job and get out - you don't live here anymore!" at him. Anyway, he should be gone soon.
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