The house I rent is being sold! The owner finally got sick of the fact that it needs pretty much constant repairing (although, amazingly, it has no leaks). However this is not necessarily the disaster it might appear: they're not going to have the auction until May, and the real estate agency which manages the house has told the owner that he should advertise it as an investment property, as around 60% of the houses in this area are rentals, which means my housemates and I may not even have to move out; even if whoever ends up buying the house decides to renovate it (likely) or live in it (less likely), they'll have to give the current occupants (my housemates and me) 60 days notice.
Nonetheless, I've decided to try to find somewhere else to live. I've lived in this house for five years and I'd really like to live somewhere that doesn't have any cracks in the walls for a change - or at least, not ones that go from floor to ceiling and leak plaster dust when you poke them with a broom handle. Also, I've realised that even though I like being with people, I don't really like living with people all that much. An illlustration: I've been away for the last week, and when I got back not only was the house messier than it was when I left, but neither of my housemates had bothered to empty the washing-up rack of the clean things it contains (after a week!) but had instead just piled what washing up they'd done on top until it formed a precarious clean washing-up mountain; and even worse than that, when I went to the lavatory the toilet looked as if it hadn't been flushed in several days: one of my housemates has apparently decided to stop flushing the toilet after she urinates, but also both of my housemates are frequently away from the house for extended periods, so the toilet bowl contained a fetid pool of days-old urine.
This, combined with the fact that the agent has removed all the trees out the front of the house, leaving the front bleak and barren, just so that they could photograph the house for the For Sale ad, actually put me into a horrible depression for much of the evening. I've calmed down now, but fuck this house. Fuck it to death. I want to move into a nice one-bedroom-plus-study house and fill it with lovely old furniture from all the cheap antiques whops around here and have it as a place where I can work on my writing without being interrupted by my housemate watching TMZ and leaving her used tissues all over the floor (this is the one who does still flush the toilet) and where I can return from wherever I've returned to my refuge and can feel like I'm in my home. My home.
Author
Topic: Blog Thread III : Look Who's Blogging Now (Read 915776 times)