oh hi moving house
Oh boy, it's been a bit of a shit end to the week. (Late-night party interlude notwithstanding.)
I'd gotten a place lined up with Matt / Marauder and his girl Louise, great place, within my budget, etc, and I was going to go start the settling-in process on Saturday morning. Friday night rolls around, and I get an SMS from Matt at half past twelve telling me that the deal is off, and that I'm not able to move in with him anymore. Fucking hell, thanks for the warning.
From then on, my life has (again) turned into a frantic search for a places to live in. I swear there's a total of about 15 places in the entirety of the city (ie. not Parramatta or Emu Plains) that are actually available for rent; it feels like I'm going to end up moving into the "MEAT MEAT MEAT" place at this rate. Most people I've tried ringing aren't picking up the phone, and don't even seem to have answering machines.
Looking for a place to stay is like a fucking full-time job. I see notices posted up on the telegraph poles dotted around the area, take a number, and come back in ten minutes to find someone's already come along and swiped the rest of the them. People I call up and actually manage to get through to quote figures far in excess of what's written on the posters, and offer "So sorry you have wrong number *Click*" by way of response when I call them out on it. ARGH. Farking charge-as-much-as-the-market-can-tolerate shtick.
Staying at my own place really isn't an option; come March 14th the lease is going to be "renegotiated" (ie. the poor bastards who are moving in are going to pay an even higher rent than what we're paying at the moment, for what's pretty much a falling-down shack of a place). My fallback plan is staying at my parent's place in Warriewood (in the Northern Beaches, way north of the bridge), but moving back there means I'm going to lose whatever tenuous edge I have at the moment of being in the city and inner suburbs all the time (that is, being around to spot more notices, and being able to get to a potential place as soon as it is advertised), making finding a place even more difficult. Gah.
Anyway, leaving day is fast approaching at 12 days and counting. Oh fucking fuck fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. (Fuck.)
Edit: AAAAARGH. A new posting on realestate.com.au goes up, and in the space of half an hour they've already got a full queue of people waiting to see the place.
People must be doing nothing but farking camping the damn real estate sites. How the hell are people with jobs or uni supposed to find a damn place to live? D: D:
Edit #2: An accurate depiction of how I feel about the situation, courtesy of Nadia:
I'd gotten a place lined up with Matt / Marauder and his girl Louise, great place, within my budget, etc, and I was going to go start the settling-in process on Saturday morning. Friday night rolls around, and I get an SMS from Matt at half past twelve telling me that the deal is off, and that I'm not able to move in with him anymore. Fucking hell, thanks for the warning.
From then on, my life has (again) turned into a frantic search for a places to live in. I swear there's a total of about 15 places in the entirety of the city (ie. not Parramatta or Emu Plains) that are actually available for rent; it feels like I'm going to end up moving into the "MEAT MEAT MEAT" place at this rate. Most people I've tried ringing aren't picking up the phone, and don't even seem to have answering machines.
Looking for a place to stay is like a fucking full-time job. I see notices posted up on the telegraph poles dotted around the area, take a number, and come back in ten minutes to find someone's already come along and swiped the rest of the them. People I call up and actually manage to get through to quote figures far in excess of what's written on the posters, and offer "So sorry you have wrong number *Click*" by way of response when I call them out on it. ARGH. Farking charge-as-much-as-the-market-can-tolerate shtick.
Staying at my own place really isn't an option; come March 14th the lease is going to be "renegotiated" (ie. the poor bastards who are moving in are going to pay an even higher rent than what we're paying at the moment, for what's pretty much a falling-down shack of a place). My fallback plan is staying at my parent's place in Warriewood (in the Northern Beaches, way north of the bridge), but moving back there means I'm going to lose whatever tenuous edge I have at the moment of being in the city and inner suburbs all the time (that is, being around to spot more notices, and being able to get to a potential place as soon as it is advertised), making finding a place even more difficult. Gah.
Anyway, leaving day is fast approaching at 12 days and counting. Oh fucking fuck fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. (Fuck.)
Edit: AAAAARGH. A new posting on realestate.com.au goes up, and in the space of half an hour they've already got a full queue of people waiting to see the place.
People must be doing nothing but farking camping the damn real estate sites. How the hell are people with jobs or uni supposed to find a damn place to live? D: D:
Edit #2: An accurate depiction of how I feel about the situation, courtesy of Nadia: