Sunday, April 10, 2005
House buying and Toy Dimensions
Something our town is very close to, yesterday
Monday April 11th 2005
So, this week we put in an offer for the house we're keen on. The agent didn't put it in writing. So I went to the first of two rather desperate open inspections they hurriedly put on the weekend (9th and 10th April), and got upset. The agent rather patronisingly said "Oh we do things differently here to South Australia, we don't put anything in writing until the price is agreed upon". After I explained that this was because Victorian agents are more shifty and/or lazy, I then gleefully pointed out that in the half an hour we were standing at the open arguing about it, absolutely nobody else had been through to look at the house. Then the agent tried to tell me all this stuff to make me think the house was worth the asking price, blah blahdey blah. So I left him there in his solitude. They rung me only an hour later to say that the owners were willing to come down.
Actually, the price is quite right for us but we will wait until we hear from the bank. I believe the owners are keen to sell, which, I'm told is a good thing. A couple of weeks ago I was going to burst into the agent's office screaming "I must have that house...what will it take??" but I've been told that's a bad ploy. We are not rushing which means we must be learning patience in our old age. Besides, the house selling market is going slower than Victorian Freeway traffic (when it goes past a car that is parked well off the side of the road with it's bonnet up. Stupid rubberneckers).
If this all comes off, to all our SA friends and family...when you visit, you can stay more comfortably instead of sleeping in the toilet. Which is about all the space we have left since our house is used primarily to accommodate a plethora of big, loud, garish and useless plastic toys that seem to breed every time certain grandparents visit. Honestly people...can't you just buy them books?? Yes, I know getting your grandkids something practical (or, God forbid...educational) cheats you of the instant gratification from seeing their gleeful little faces light up. I know this gratification makes you immune from remembering that the moment you are gone the said toys will be ignored, broken, rammed down the toilet or used to annoy an innocent cat. But do you not understand the mathematics of available cubic space?? What happens the moment you add to the growing collection yet another loud, large toy, which is physically impossible to store neatly? Well, sadly God does NOT open up an additional spatial dimension or some kind of cosmic wormhole for us to stash them all in so that we can have some space left in which to ..oh, I don't know...walk, put furniture, cook some food to survive, and other such trivialities.
Now that I think about it, that wormhole idea would be handy and any prayers to that effect would be greatly appreciated. I have bugger all else chance of finding alternative accommodation for this massive pile of trinkets which can be seen from space. Throwing them out? Good heavens no!! Apparently some plastic action figure or $2 plagiarised version of Barbie with it's arms pulled off is now officially some kind of family heirloom which is to be passed down to another apathetic generation with no respect for property. It would be evil of me to cast them into the big green bin even though absolutely nobody will miss them. Not least of all the people to whom they were given, who have since found something else to play with. Or worse, something to read...
I digress with my cynical rantings. Where was I? Oh yeah. House news updated soon. Bye all.
Posted by P. H. Atherton at 7:26 PM