Interior

Dear (future) home

Dear (future) home,

You don't know it yet, but I am looking for you. So I thought this summer I would chalk on my own schoolyard at Vondelpark with my new housemate, but my gut kept churning at that dream about chalk sessions and long summer evenings in the garden. And yes, my gut is always right, because the house is off the market. The chalks I bought from the sweet girl at the flea market I have put out with the bulky waste and the banana plant order has been canceled.

So it's time for a new plan: this will be a large-scale search for a roof over my head. And I have exactly 29 days left.

And this is why your house wants me:

  • I spend a lot of time with you, because besides my awesome job, my favorite thing is lounging on the couch and watching a fun series together.
  • I don't throw wild parties within your walls, because there are plenty of those at the Amayzine HQ.
  • I always leave my house clean with a made bed.
  • Vacuuming is one of my hobbies, so I regularly zoom through your spaces with the monster.
  • There are always green leaves in the fridge and I'm also not averse to a good bottle of Chardonnay.
  • If you also have a strip of land, I hereby solemnly promise to start a vegetable garden.
  • Your kitchen has never received so much attention, just like your pots and pans.
  • There will always be plenty of reading material in the house, because yes, I write that myself.
  • I will bring five juicers, bread machines, kitchen appliances, and NutriBullets, so there will never be a lack of kitchen equipment again.
  • Your Sunday morning has never smelled so good, because I make breakfasts like the best.
  • And for those residents of yours, they have also never been so well taken care of; I slide the tastiest baked goods into the oven daily (because after all, I am Miss Bake).
  • When signing the rental contract, two personal training sessions per week are included (yes, from a certified person, hello, it's me).

Oh, and I prefer to do all this in my beautiful Amsterdam. I fell head over heels for it last year. With its special residents, quirky spots, and lost chain-smoking tourists. I dated the city in the heart of the center among the rolling suitcases. Enormously fun, but I'm starting to get a bit tired of the flashing cameras under my balcony, and on weekends I take my bike to explore Le Marais of Amsterdam. I can see myself in Oud-West and Zuid. On the sidewalk with sunglasses on my nose or even better: with a glass of wine on a south-facing balcony. And hey, that sidewalk chalk is quickly bought again. You understand that.

Because you are somewhere, and I hope you will let me know soon. As I said, I have 29 days left to find you. With my 25 boxes, enormous lounge sofa, fifty pairs of shoes, and 150 bottles of nail polish.