So we got the house, paid the rent upfront (somebody shout hallelujah!) and we moved in. Everyone got a room since it was a three bedroom flat, and there were a big cute parlour and nice efficient kitchen which we would all share and contribute to furnishing.
Each room came with a toilet and bathroom, a bed, a wardrobe and a window- to emphasize that this was no prison. Since we all had a room to ourselves, we could decorate and furnish it anyhow we chose to, you know personalize it.
I went with purple paint, purple bed sheets, a purple rug and a purple chair. Oh dear! That is a lot of purples, how come I didn’t notice? But then again purple is the official colour for royalty so I guess my subconscious was just trying to connect me back to my royal roots. Yes- with a colour.
I also brought in a table for my laptop, a mirror cos I had to look good and see myself looking good, a shoe rack by the wall, a book rack knocked into the wall just above my table and chair and a bag rack too. Damn this room looks good.
And then when I saw Stella and Nneka’s room my room just looked like a joke. A really really big joke. These girls had a shoe closet, an extension of their wardrobe, bags that looked like they bought in wholesale and they even had their own television and speakers. What da heck?
Now I’m going to be depressed.
Although we were done furnishing our personal rooms, we now had the “common” rooms like the living room and kitchen to worry about and it was no easy task. We wanted absolutely different things.
“Let’s put a red big couch right here in the middle,” Stella said, her hands akimbo. She was putting on shorts and a singlet, you know house clothes.
“Oh please, and now I get why your relationships always ended soon after the guys came to see you in your own house” Nneka retorted, she was chewing gum the classic Naija runs girl style- you know really loudly and she was putting on house clothes that could turn into party clothes with just a change in footwear, babe always looked good.
“What on earth does my love life have to do with this parlour?” Stella shot back.
“Who would want to see a red big couch in the middle of a room. Again? Are they walking into a live sacrifice trap?” Nneka replied
“Ok, ok ok why don’t we make it a red and white couch?”
They both turned at the same time and said
“And that explains why you’re terminally single”
We finally settled on a black couch, a nice plasma screen TV, a speaker set, a glass table in the middle, blue curtains and some paintings on the wall. Nneka had gotten them from an artist guy she once had a fling with, the guy was now a big shot so it was pretty wowza having his paintings in our living room.
For the kitchen, we found a way to give everyone a corner so each of us had our own gas, pots and other needed kitchen equipment’s. This was actually my idea, I had been to Nneka’s Kitchen and I knew for a fact that the girl did not like washing her dishes, she just kept on piling them in her sink like there was some plate-washing-minion that would magically come and make them clean. There was no way I was inheriting her dirty dishes here or taking up that plate washing minion job for her.
We dedicated a whole day to put the house in order and by the time we were done it was well past midnight and we had 5 big dustbins filled up to show for it. But it was finally feeling like home.
“I hope you both won’t be a bad influence,” Nneka said whilst stifling a yawn.
“What’s that supposed to mean? Besides you’re the hoe here” I retorted with a laugh.
“My point exactly, I spent a Friday night arranging a kitchen. There’s a reason its called TGIF, a reason we thank God for its Friday and I am pretty sure that reason is not that we get the chance to arrange a kitchen and besides staying home on a Friday night is bad for hoe business” She shot back on her way to her room.
“Wait!” Stella held her hand up. “We need to set down some rules”
“Oh please, what is this? An extension of secondary school hostels?” Nneka said.
“I’m not joking. We need rules” Stella insisted, she had a thing or orderliness and organization and what not. I personally think she would excel in a career in organizing stuff if that’s an actual thing.
“No loud music, no coming back late, no male sleepovers, no sex in the house, no fighting, no shouting, no smoking, no alcohol, no-”
Nneka cut her off “No breathing, or living, or eating or existing”
“What the hell Stella, I came here to up my game not cut off my life and be bored to death” She turned to me. “Back me up, Sharon”.
And there goes our first fight. Yay!
Catch up with previous episodes of Mrs Main Chic