I’m looking for houses. Not to buy. To rent. Ha! Because I am going to be able to afford to buy a house… oh, exactly never.
ANYWAY. This is a self-pity post, but not yet. Getting ahead of myself there.
So, I was idly looking, because I will need to move out of my place in November. I love my apartment, but I am tired of living in an apartment. I don’t have a bath. I don’t have a garden. I don’t have somewhere where I can sit outside, because my balcony faces the walkway of another big block of units, and there’s this group of dodgy guys who always loiter there. And they can see right in through my loungeroom window. Also, I have nowhere to hang laundry – last time I hung stuff on the communal line it got nicked. So all the doors in here are draped with my sheets. It’s very attractive.
And I am going to move out with my sister. She turns 18 tommorrow! Ack! Also, she will be finishing school, and she needs to move out, because my mother is mental. MENTAL. And she is one of the few people I wouldn’t ruin my relationship with by moving in.
So. We are moving in November, because my lease is up at the start of said month, and she is done school at the end of it.
I was sort of thinking about this in a kind of ‘later on’ way. Until one of the houses right near my work emptied and went up advertised on one of the rental sites I’ve been stalking.
There was a frenzy. I went and peered in the windows. (hardwood floors. Sun porch. Grassy area out the back just dying to be a vegetable garden.) I looked at the bond and did the maths. I could afford to move in in October. It would be tight, there would be no splurging, but I could do it. Providing my parents paid the bond, which they said they would, ages ago, when we discussed this.
I asked about it. My mother was encouraging. Said she thought that would be fine, but she had to talk it over with my dad. Call her later that night. I did. She was passive aggresive (surprise!). They could pay some of the bond. This said in a voice like I had asked for her firstborn. Which, uh, would be ME.
Anyway, I was ignoring the delivery and going with the message. It’s cool, I could still afford to move, it would be even tighter, but I could. I got in touch with the land agent and she said that the landlord was still clearing the property up, and he would be setting a date for an open inspection soon. I planned. I plotted. I schemed. I stalked the websites.
This evening I noticed. The house wasn’t up any more.
I don’t know what this means, but I am pretty sure that whatever reason there is for it not being there it means this: I can’t have it.
It’s nice, and it’s about a thirty second walk from work (which is good and bad, but mostly good, given my levels of laziness) and it’s nice, and, frankly, I had virtually moved in, in my head.
And given my level of crossness because of my mother’s difficultness about the whole thing, my anxiety about moving, and my general winter funk, I was DOWN about it.
So I dyed my hair bright red. I feel a little better.
Oh, yeah. And I finished my alpaca sweater last night. The sleeves are too long.
Poop. I think I will have to cut them and cast off about an inch or two from where they are. Which means that I did have enough yarn, all that time!
Now I am off to finish at least one of my sister’s requested birthday fingerless mitts. It is genmachia, which is a lovely pattern that I have been dieing to knit, in some of Emma’s yarn, which is lovely. But… I don’t think I like the two together. Too late, and bad luck, since she is warm colours, and I have no warm colours in my stash, and no time to buy more. I think they will be nice for her, but I am not happy with them, in general.