New Ground And Butt-Jabbing

I went house-hunting last weekend. And by house-hunting, I mean small apartment hunting somewhere in the Indian metropolis of Westmead, where all the apartment buildings smell intoxicatingly like what I imagine a romanticised life in Kolkata would be like.

I dragged my mother along. Boy, was that a smart move. I would've just looked at the first place and thought: this'll do, and thrown my 10% deposit at the real estate agent. My formidable and intelligent mother used her critical eye and years of experience to spot flaws in each and every potential home. She even turned on all the taps (and showers) to check out water pressure and adequate drainage design.

I only really found one unit that I liked, but in waiting to get the contract emailed to me, I found out that some creep already laid down a deposit. Sneaky bastards.

Actually, there's a second apartment I kind of like, but it's on like the fourth floor of a complex and there are no lifts, which means all bulky furniture would have to be carried painfully up several flights of stairs. I might swing by the real estate to see if that unit was sold. By the way, not impressed with real estate agencies or their greasy sales staff.

In other news, there was an altercation between two patients on the ward today. One decided to strangle the other with a scarf. Scarf victim didn't like that for some reason and started screaming. I stood dumbfounded while an exceptional nurse quickly launched in to break them apart. Lots of staff held her down and I jabbed her with a sedative agent, but if anyone looked closely I'm sure they would've seen my hands shaking. I'm really not a very brave boy.