The Adventures of QueerPenguin

Why renting is a knut

• $220 for removalists to move all QP's shit into bf's much nicer place: Tick.
• $215 for cleaners to joan* it up so QP could get all the bond back for himself and ex-flatmate: Tick.
• 2 full days including one off work to move into said nicer place where moving in is forbidden on weekends: Tick.
• Sore back and arch of right foot: Tick.
• Much satisfaction and pride despite aforementioned pain when last object was unpacked from last box and strategically placed in new location on Friday: Tick.
• Ominous visit on following Saturday morning from owner of subject location and various accompanying family members, including very enthusiastic-looking daughter: Tick.
• Comments heard on Saturday directed to said daughter including but not limited to 'Wow, you have a bathtub! (Unknown person) is going to be so jealous!' Tick.
• 60-day notice period issued to QP and bf 2 days later on Monday evening: Tick.
• Expensive 3.5 week Europe trip planned with return tickets purchased for a departure date of, oh, about 62 days from now? Tick.
• Horrendous Sydney rental market with almost no properties available, such that those that are are overpriced, in poor condition and a shitfight to see/obtain long-term lease for? Tick.
• Tears and womanesque sobbing from QP: Tick.

(*'Joaning': v To clean and in particular scrub maniacally until all surfaces are essentially reduced to air particles, in a style reminiscent of Faye Dunaway's portrayal of Joan Crawford in Mommie Dearest. 'Sheryll-Ann joaned and joaned incessantly as the face cream dripped from her cheekbones, the axe in grasping range, but knew deep down the surfaces would never truly be clean.')

Labels: pain, random musings, renting

posted by Sam @ Tuesday, February 19, 2008