The landlord lady clued me in: she only cares about the apartment, not the person living in it. A certain sign of that is her workers — cheap-labor Uzbeki young men — left a mess after renewing the apartment and messed up my cookware. My favorite pan still looks like pigeons shat in it.

...I know, I know. Worrying about his pan, that guy. But I love cooking, and I have no respect for people not taking care of their cookware. Others' cookware? Whole another level of dickery.

Looking for a new apartment. Calling random people is stressful. Some people — even men — don't rent to single men here: they've had "experience" with it, meaning they had a young male student leave a big mess in their rented apartments. I take care of my living space, but with things like this, once you've had a bad taste of undisciplined young men breaking your shit, it's difficult to be persuaded otherwise.

A quiet, lazy week of being stressed about about the state of my living space. That kinda vibe makes me want to hide in my shell and only try familiar things in my little corner. I'm terrified of nothing at all, and it makes going forward that much harder.

There's only one way in which the reconciliation of the two worlds for Rosa works: if I imagine both of them being set somewhere like the Tyranny setting: a gritty, down-to-earth Middle Age-esque fantasy, except without the explicit magic and (possibly) with aliens. Excitingly enough, this kind of perspective helps me see the world wider: it's now bigger than I imagined, there are different peoples living on their own all around the known lands, and the world itself is breathing.