The jig is up. In his darkest moment, I’m sure that M attributes the impending sale of our house to me. I said the gutters needed fixing to the agent. I got a phone call a day or two later saying that the owner would come around and do some work on them. An hour later the agent called back and said to scratch that, the owner’s had it, he’s going to put it up for sale. GAH!
We toyed for a bit with how we might buy it. Tried to put a syndicate together with sympathetic business people (i.e. my dad and his mate) but no go. They want too much for it (Four hundred and twenty five thousand dollars. Hello?), and we’ve already a variety of people looking through.
One woman did say that she would keep us on as tenants if the house did sell, mentioning that she could ‘never live in a place like this’, and then stuttered as I subjected her to the deadfish stare. But odds are we’ll be out at the end of our lease, three days before Christmas – and how much does that suck? Although it is a land of bogans, utes, mosquitos and sandflies, those things fade in and out of focus – we actually like it here. We have a massive backyard, water over the road and lots of room for ALL OUR CRAP.
This is my one feeling of doom. Where else are we going to fit one caravan, two cars, and two boats on trailers. Not to mention all the stuff that we never unpacked that is clogging our large and illustrious SHED? Oh….. I think that I better begin a campaign of decluttering right about now. We already have a shed at my dad’s place…
…and this has all our cds and books in it, as well as other stuff we don’t use. I wonder, if it was hit by a meteorite, whether it would be utterly devastating, or just a secret relief… Anyway, more stuff can fit into it, if we end up in a smaller dwelling.