"This is not my beautiful house"

It's 10:40pm. We have discovered a strange noise coming from the wall directly above the headboard.

Or rather, we have been subjected to (for the last hour or so) a very mechanical, low buzz every five to ten minutes.

And it's one of those little things that, if this were our home in KC, we would just roll our eyes and say, "Oh, that's X. Who's going to [do that quirky fix that we don't realize is actually kinda weird and shows we should really just repair X]?"

And then I realized part of what makes this move so uneasy at times: that feeling of "This is not my house." I haven't unpacked. I haven't moved in. Sure, I'm comfortable in this space, but it's not MY space (or Britton's, either). We step over suitcases, squeeze awkwardly past coffee tables, try to remember where this spatula-that-isn't-ours gets put away.

Anyway, we have two weeks left in this flat (hope to have details that I can share very soon about our next living situation!) and it's not like this is a dealbreaker by any means. But I am ready to have a home where I feel like it's worth it to learn all the quirks.

(I, er I mean We've deduced that the noise is coming from the air conditioning unit, but we don't know what the problem is. Have flipped off the fuse and it stopped, and luckily we're in freakin' London so, unlike KC, we won't die in our home when the air is off all night. In fact, we'll be quite comfortable!)

Ellen versus the mysteriously noisy air conditioner

(Earworm, for those of you who recognized the title:)