As my friend Andreas Fluke would point out, yes, the headline's a Beck lyric and, of course, a positive phrase.

I've been searching for a new apartment for what seems like ages. I have to move out from my current one by the 15th of September, and I really need to know I'll get hold of a new one. Well, the situation is really not as desperate as it may sound: the alternative is moving back in with my parents ““ which they're graciously offering me and I know I'm blessed with having such nice parents that'll take me back ““ if I don't find something soon enough. I know I'll find somewhere to live but I'd really love to find that place now. When I find it I'll throw a party, and that's a promise.

Apartment-hunting using the service that Stockholm city provides works like this: you pay an amount of money regularly to ensure your place in the queue. New apartments are announced on a site and up for grabs for a limited amount of time. If you grab, your place in queue for said apartment is decided by the length of time you've been paying money to the people administering the queue. Here's what looking for a new apartment feels like to me, depending on my mood.

Mood: angry: I scour the list of apartments incessantly, add the new ones to my list and then suddenly some bastard (whose parents probably signed him/her up fifty years ago) decides to take the apartment just to piss on me. Of course, just to piss on me, not because he/she actually needs the apartment. Of course. These people are on my deathlist forever, with their children. And their friends and families. I am obviously Keyser Söze. ((And my full-blown God complex agrees.))

Mood: tired and blue: I scour the list of apartments incessantly, add the ones that feel applicable to my list and then wait for somebody to leave me second in line. Repeat for-bloody-ever. I'll have to move back in with my parents and they'll turn sick of the sight of me and kick me out and I'll roam the streets with my sofa in a bag and eat at McDonalds and I will most likely never have a new apartment and I'll rot and die and die. And die more. ((This mood usually dies down pretty quickly, which is something I've become a lot better at: killing the bad thoughts by letting experience and reality hit me.))

Mood: positive: I scour the list of apartments incessantly, add the new ones to my list and check back once in a while; I don't care much for the area where the apartment is - if it's good, hey, that's nice, but if it's not-so-good, I know I'll create an oasis to live and thrive. Even though somebody may suddenly be ahead of me in the queue, I think my lucky break will come soon enough and those people ahead of me will have turned disinterested to let me have mine when it's time for the administration to let the lucky winner know what's up. Soon, soon, soon! If I have to move in with my parents - so what? They're brilliant and it'll be fun to be part of their lives more intimately for a while.

I'm mostly in positive mode. Anyway, on the positive tip, I'll soon be rid of paying the highest rent I'm likely to ever pay for any apartment, I'll no longer have to have all my stuff boxed in rooms that smell of old cigarette-smoke, I won't have neighbours that renovate through the wee hours and I will start the next phase of my life.