microwiresa.life
🛑 My name is Hanna. I'm 33. I live in Cork, in the Blackpool area. I rent a room. Not a flat — a room. In a house with two strangers who, like me, can't afford their own place. I work as a cashier for Dunnes Stores. The job runs from 6am to 10pm. I do evening shifts. From 2 to 10. Sometimes till 11 if it's stocktake. About €12.70 an hour — minimum wage in Ireland. After tax — around €1,750 a month. Sounds okay? It's not. Here are the expenses. Room rent: €650 (includes bills but no internet) Internet + phone: €60 Bus to work and back: €75 (Bus Éireann, night routes barely run) Food: €320 (I barely eat meat because it's too expensive) Subscriptions: €9 (Amazon Prime Video — the only thing I have, and even that I share with a friend) Clothes and shoes: €25 (charity shops, everything) Medication: €15 (headache and allergy tablets — GP visit is €50 so I avoid it) Unexpected: €35 Left: €561. Feels like €561 is money. It's not. Because €561 is what covers everything I forgot. And everything that will happen tomorrow. And tomorrow always happens. I've been alone for three years. Since I split up with my husband Nick. He was normal. Didn't hit me. Didn't shout. Just stopped noticing me. I became like a fridge — it's there, but you don't see it. I left on my own. Since then — I'm alone. In the evening I come home at 10:30, if everything goes well. If it's a heavy shift — 11:30. The house is old. Doors creak. My housemates are lads who don't care. They blast music at 2am. I don't complain — I'm scared they'll hate me. And I've got nowhere else to go. I go into my room. 9 square metres. Bed, wardrobe, desk. On the desk — a 2017 laptop that takes five minutes to load. I boil the kettle. Drink tea without sugar. Stare at the wall. And think. I think about being 33. No savings. If the laptop breaks — I can't replace it. If I get ill and miss three days — I can't pay rent. No sick pay. Nothing. If a housemate says I walk too loud — the landlord will just replace me.
