For the past 30 months I have been living within the city limits. I have enjoyed being close to work, minutes away from public transport and literally down the road from one of my best friends in Australia. However, the cost of such a convenient location has slowly been crippling me financially.
Prior to moving into the Docklands apartment, I was briefly living in a rather undesirable area of which the denizens often perturbed me with their cantankerous conduct and nefarious antics. Being a rather sensitive soul, these surroundings were not conducive to a happy lifestyle, so I decided that, no matter what the cost, I would move to somewhere more secure.
When I moved into the Lacrosse building by Etihad Stadium, I was deliriously happy. I even recall dancing around like an uncoordinated bunny with myxomatosis. I was throwing caution to the wind and I deliberately ignored the fact that I am not exactly wise and thrifty, but I was happy.
This year, I decided to make some changes in my life and the move had to be one of them. Admittedly, there are some other reasons other than financial to get away – the building itself suffered a damaging fire four months ago and it still isn’t up to scratch; there is perpetual noise from next door as another tower is being constructed mere feet away from my bedroom wall; the constant noise from the trams and train station has kept me awake most nights… the list goes on.
So, I began the laborious chore of house-hunting…
Firstly, let me say how much harder it is for renters. I came across a number of obstacles during my search. Estate agents only seem to pander to home-buyers. Renters seem to be a nuisance to them. I went to many estate agent offices and I was confronted by a lot of unhelpful receptionists who gave me looks of derision when I asked for help. The most they could achieve was to pass me a print out of places for lease. Yeah, thanks.
I had spent a lot of time on websites but they are quite poor to judge places, especially when they a) don’t provide the information one needs and b) lie through their teeth! I think we should supply every estate agent with a dictionary to replace their optimistic thesaurus which seems to be their holy bible. ‘Spacious’, ‘exciting’, ‘fantastic’ ‘cosy’??? As I have said for a long time now, ‘Sales is about bullshitting; Marketing is about bullshitting and believing it!’ Utterly deluded.
And what is the thrill about “communal Laundry”?? This isn’t 1985!! Unless I get to shag Daniel Day-Lewis in the back room, I certainly am not interested in sharing my de-soiling of garments with an audience.
Please don’t get me started on the ‘no pets’ rule!! It is one of the most infuriating things about renting. She’s a cat for God’s sake, not a Tasmanian Devil! People make more mess then Fizzgig. They let people rent with demon babies, for fuck’s sake! (I said ‘don’t get me started’!)
A lot of the one-bedroom places available to rent in Melbourne and surrounding suburbs are so incredibly tiny that, unless you’re a foreign student with only a laptop and a mattress in your possession, you are going to find it incredibly difficult to be comfortable. I am 39, for crying out loud! I have a life in tow – furniture, belongings etc. I don’t want to live my life like a battery chicken. I looked at some flats and could see myself attempting to bite my own legs off through the sheer insanity of the cell-like abodes.
There is an inescapable problem in our society and that is, simply, life does not avail itself easily to the single person. Modern life caters toward the couple and, unless Ryan Kwanten wakes up to realise that he really should marry me and live happily ever after, I am going to struggle. I work in publishing and, fair’s fair, it’s not the best paying industry (I confess I am not the brightest or best educated person in the world, so I can’t complain too much about failing to climb the career ladder) but I still want to be able to afford pleasures like buying friends gifts at Christmas, paying for a holiday once a year, the occasional pizza. Sadly, landlords are shockingly greedy and that’s never going to change. (I have a theory that if all landlords across the globe stopped upping their rents for one year, the world could catch up with itself and the economic crisis would smooth over – see? Not that educated, but I have nice and simplistic ideas!)
During my jaunts around the suburbs, I came across some annoyances such as estate agents not turning up for appointments, disgusting lightless hovels, preposterous lies and dismal excuses for dwellings.
The lighter side of it is I have met some rather handsome estate agents and, quite often, wanted to take the property on that notion alone. ”Ooh, hello Hottie McHothot, I’ll take it!”
Anyway, my rant is drawing to a close. I have (hopefully) found and secured a place that is a two-bedroom place, top floor with balcony and in a pleasant area with a decent pizza restaurant down the road (important!)
All I hope is that the next time I move, it will be as a home-owner, not a renter… now, what numbers should I choose for the lottery??
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