If “adulting” can be a verb, then it stands to reason that you can say “adulted” too, right?
I’ve been really awfully terrible at getting my shit sorted out since I came to England, and I’ve got a lot of paperwork left to do, starting with getting a national insurance number and a bank account and ending with like, getting a job and a flat I can sign a proper permanent lease on. That would just be nice, I think. It would be pretty perfect honestly.
We’ll come back to that. Today, just over the past hour and a half, I stepped out of my new room — in a homestay.com flat near Hampstead Heath, not the nicest, but certainly nice enough, and the location/price ratio is really good for super-expensive London — and walked not long at all to:
1. The Royal Free Hospital, where I asked about getting a paroxetine prescription to hold me over until the box my mom shipped this morning arrives. I asked at reception, was sent to A&E, asked at that reception, filled out a form, put a sticker on my wrist, waited, saw a doctor, and achieved a prescription. It’s going to cost me about £7 to get just a week’s worth of pills (tomorrow or Monday, because I got there somewhat late and the pharmacy closes at 12:30 PM), but I won’t have to be medless, and that’s important. This was done with the promise that on Monday I would get a GP, which means on Monday I will get that NIN and go from there. I was planning to already — the nearest Jobcentre Plus is a lot closer than the nearest to my Crouch End place was — but it’s good to have a push.
2. Marks & Spencer, which, fine, not the epitome of adulthood to go to a supermarket that’s expensive as shit, but in my defense, it’s literally right around the corner and the closest one after that is a twenty-minute walk away. The adulting bit is the fact that the ratio of proper food to snacks was literally 7:1. I got chocolate muffins instead of chocolate bars, which I tend to eat in one sitting no matter how big they are. I got bananas and broccoli and spaghetti, which means I’ll have to cook. I looked at the expiry dates on things! I got about enough food to hold me over for a week (short of replacing the bread halfway through) for £12.32, and I’m determined to actually eat it.
3. Then I withdrew (nearly all of*) the next two weeks’ rent for this place, which was paid largely by my parents, unfortunately, but luckily I’ll be able to return half the money (the unexpected half) on Monday, and hopefully I won’t have trouble making the remaining rent for the month (£200) by next Saturday or the Monday after next. Hopefully! And then I’m set for three, possibly four weeks, which is pretty great for my nerves.
* My Paypal card has a daily recharge limit of 300€, which converted to GBP is… not that close to 300. I did not know this. So I will get the little bit that’s left out tomorrow.
Also, I survived a huge spider last night. Even though it vanished before I could kill it. Adulting!
I also found out that you can get a bank account at Lloyds without proof of address, and I’m seriously considering that. I even mapped out the way to my nearest Lloyds. Any words of advice, wisdom to impart, etc.?
I think my greatest accomplishment over the past week, though, has been over my anxiety. My mom was basically having a breakdown yesterday — she went to the eye doctor, then I hit her with the fact that I needed 100€ to fulfill the first fortnight’s rent, which I actually earned (and surpassed) later that night with my own work, but I couldn’t have known that — but I’ve been… functional. I think I’ve even developed a packing system, which consists of emptying the contents of my drawers and closet all out on my bed, rolling it all, and filling up the suitcases starting with the green one and my tripod and hair dryer and boots. My unpacking skills have got even better, though. It took me like, twenty minutes to get all my crap out of my suitcases and put away last night.
Admittedly, the backpack I got from Viking has pretty much saved my life. I owe it — and my second plug adapter, and my 16GB memory card, and my Scotch scissors, and the 60GB USB stick I need to get back from Streatham, where I accidentally left it behind — a proper post next week, because damn.
Right now, though, I have work to do, and a CV to write up (somebody help me I beg of you), and jobs to apply for, and email to reply to, and an event on Tuesday, and possibly a swimwear shoot on Thursday (need to confirm, I’m not going down to Brixton unless a whole lot more communication happens in the next couple of days), and people to meet up with, and blog posts to write, and categories to revamp because I want London to feature hugely on my blog from now on, and… things?
How was your Saturday morning?