Moved in and moving again.
It does seem as if the rug is constantly being pulled out from under my feet. Of course, it isn't, but it's not everybody who finds themselves moving as often as I have.
Still, I continue to be optimistic that eventually I will be in a situation again where I will have real garden space, not just pots on a balcony.
For her own reasons, my housemate is moving, which means I cannot afford this space on my own, and I'm pretty sure I will not find a roommate by the end of the month. Fortunately for me, another suite downstairs and more affordable, in this house, is available and the landlords offered it to me.
I'm taking it sight unseen. Yes, really. It is comical but at the same time, I feel no fear or worries at all. I haven't even started packing. Oh, I have contacted the moving guys to help with the heaviest furniture and hopefully they will have an hour or two to spare on a day that coordinates somehow with all the stuff that needs to be coordinated around moving. But, yeah, that's it. Am I irresponsible? Am I resigned? Am I out of steam? Maybe.
What I really think is that this is somehow the next step and I feel incredibly optimistic and calm, in a peaceful kind of way, forward-looking. No objective or rational reason for it besides my belief. That and the fact that my landlords have offered to make sure I can retain the garden space I had started working on, which in the previous arrangement belonged to the upstairs suite my housemate and I currently occupy. They are in fact, going above and beyond, to make the transition easy. All good.