Alternative title: Why isn’t there a Tinder-like app for house hunting where you can ogle the size of the garage and cringe at the rather offensive leaky guttering while at the same time wondering where the heck they’ve been storing their lawn mower to get such a patchy garden?! Wouldn’t that make the whole process far more efficient with the swipe / tap / sticky notes with panicked scrawlings thing going on? … That said I have no idea how Tinder works and the chances are I’d end up on a random date with a bungalow in Blackpool during the hen do season (flashing of buttocks and hurking of vomit all up in the garden!).
I’ve taken to lying on the floor … I should point out that it is in my current residence, not during one of the endless viewings we seem to be attending.
I can only imagine what the house owners would think if I randomly started lying on the kitchen tiles or on the rug in the front room when I suddenly found myself overwhelmed by the fact that once again we had been lied to … Images and promises of a “light and airy home” turn out to mean “you live so close to the local football ground that their flood lights bathe your house in a light so bright that you start to believe in alien abductions but on the plus side you get a ton of free meat pies posted through your letterbox on match days”. Don’t get me wrong, I love a good meat pie as much as the next Northern lass but it might get a bit too much if there are two home matches in a week!
Anyway, back to me lying on the floor.
Instead of mentally trying to keep myself grounded I’ve just gone ahead and physically done it. I even brought my cup of tea with me. Together we lie facing the ceiling, me telling it all about the monstrosities M and I have seen – I can’t un-see some of the horrors of decor we’ve endured let alone the moldy walls, the unfortunate muddy-puddle marketed as a pond and the skid-marked toilets, they are firmly ingrained in my memories – the tea silently letting off steam in sympathy as the ceiling sighs.
Everyone tells me that house hunting is an incredibly exciting time … And it is. It is also a time filled with Anxiety and frustration and paperwork (oh gods the paperwork!). It is also a time when just about every person you meet will have a house in mind for you (and insists on sending pictures of them to you on a level that is borderline harassment), every conversation you have will be about deposits or fees (basically the far end of the financial fart) and heaven forbid you turn the TV over while “Location, Location, Location” is on just in case the exact house you’re looking at a week from now happens to show up (anyone fancy having a go at calculating the probability of that happening?).
Honestly … All I want right now is to talk about the size of Mulder’s forehead (yes I said forehead – no this isn’t affecting the crush I have on the guy) and whether cookie dough as a donut centre is weird (or if it’s just me being weird) and whether dancing around to Creedance Clearwater Revivial Bad Moon Rising in just a pair of boxers is as liberating as it sounds (it is).
Come on folks – let’s have some random (non-house related) conversations!
**EDIT – M and I have recently found our ideal first home and had an offer accepted on it – yes the squealing can commence … *checks watch* we done? Yeah? Awesome … So keep your fingers and toes crossed lovelies that everything runs smoothly, otherwise I might have a bit of a meltdown and eat my body weight in cookie dough ice cream (again) while watching ANYTHING with Reece Shearsmith in (don’t judge me for he is hilarious in interviews, is one very talented actor and doesn’t look half bad in a dress!)**