I've been staying in this former hotel room for over three years now. It naturally has its disadvantages, but on the whole it's tolerably good. So although I had begun to consider finding something better if the cancer was cured, when my sister and brother-in-law offered me last week renting a studio flat in their ownership, whose previous occupant had died, I was quite hesitant about it. But after the viewing I compared the advantages and disadvantages of the two places and concluded I would accept the offer.
It may be farther away from the city centre (probably more time wasted commuting), and it's in a block of flats within a housing scheme (probably more outdoor noise). On the other hand it has a balcony with a screen door (possibility to air the room regardless of my insectophobia), which doesn't overlook a yard like my window here (probably more natural light through the day); I'd have my own cooker, rather than using a public kitchen (making my meals as I wished); and I'd have internet via cable (presumably faster than my current wi-fi).
Of course, the main thing for me is always noise. There may be some noisy neighbour, kids living upstairs and so on. But the windbag of a neighbour I have here is often a real pain as well, and who can tell he wouldn't leave and somebody even worse move in?
So in the end I decided to follow the 'nothing ventured, nothing gained' rather than 'better the devil you know' advice. What troubles me a bit though is that I feel neither excited nor depressed about it. As if, given I'm not moving back home to Scotland, it didn't actually really matter at all.
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