Thursday, April 28, 2005

I wish I'd never mentioned house-hunting to people - they keep asking me about it in tones which suggest I should be excited and as eager to bore them silly with it as they do me every flipping day of the week!

I've spent the last 2 years desperately trying to claw myself out of debt. I finally see light at the end of the tunnel and cannot muster enthusiasm at the prospect of burdening myself with a further £130 grand's worth!

Viewing houses is altogether grim as well, especially when it's the owner showing you round. You can tell those that have watched all the telly programmes and are careful to let you enter a room first and have switched lamps on at the height of the day to make a room appear bigger and brighter. Then there are those that are just desperate to sell, saying and doing all the wrong things, the fear of rejection smelling far stronger than the cinnamon they have placed in the warmed grill pan and the coffee bubbling in the pot. You come away with the feeling that you've led them on like a careless lover.

I'm shocked at the appalling lack of attention from the estate agents. 4 viewings in over a week and only one half-hearted attempt to call me for feedback - and that was about the wrong house that they'd sent me to! You wouldn't accept that from a recruitment or dating agency and yet they get away with it and get paid handsomely for it too.

I guess I've grown immune after years of seeing expectant home-owners disappointed by the whimsy and greed of others and won't allow myself to get excited unless or until it actually happens. I think I do that with relationships too. Perhaps once I have a mortgage and Sofa Workshop adiction to support, I might view both differently.

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