I’ve wanted to move house for a while, nearly since I moved in here, but have done nothing about it so far. I hate moving and end up staying somewhere rather than go through the whole crap but it is definitely overdue.
One of the things that is holding me back is that I don’t want to rush into something and find it’s wrong… again. Moving is hard, isn’t it. You go look at a place, sometimes with a horde of other people and notice the superficial details but there is so much you don’t find out until you are financially committed.
I mean, you look at the place usually in the middle of the day when it’s quiet and peaceful. You can’t know if the neighbours fight or have loud parties or if the street fills with hoons at midnight. You might get the chance to ask the outgoing tenants, if you are lucky.
When I was younger, I wanted to live in places with character. Old houses with cozy nooks where I could curl and read and interesting features. That kind of thing always looks nice. The trouble with houses with character is that they are old. They are drafty. They have inadequate heating and cooling. Sometimes they have vermin.
I’ve lived in a lot of with character. I don’t want character any more. I want ducted heating and built in wardrobes. I want a kitchen with an oven that works. I want doors that open smoothly and don’t creak, and you don’t need to fiddle your key just right to open them. I don’t a build up of years of other people’s scrud in the tile grouting and fiddly corners that are never quite clean. I don’t want quick fix repair jobs.
I used to look at pictures of houses to rent and say that looks cool or cute. Now my biggest praise is that somewhere looks clean!
I’m sure I could tie this all in to a metaphor for life somehow but I’m tired right now and it just is what it is.