| 10:21p |
Flakes and cakes
There have been certain points in my life where I have thought, "Yes, this definitely makes me a grown-up now." One of those things was having a full-time job. You know, going to work every single day, going to sleep and then doing it all over again. One thing I didn't realise, though, is that having a full-time job can actually make you more of a kid. I goof off a lot at work, like I am always making snacks and doing silly dances and emailing my friends. See? Total kid.
Anyway, I had another grown-up epiphany this week. I signed my first lease. Geoff and I panicked all of a sudden, about the fact that we didn't have anywhere to live post-wedding. I mean, sure, you can get married, but where are you gonna LIVE? The Sydney rental market was freaking us out...every day, there is a new headline in the papers that says something like, "Sydney rental market crisis", "Interest rates rise", or "Gold bullions, Bvlgari jewellery and Prada handbags are now pre-requisites for renting a home". So I spent more time looking at rental property on the net. We did turbo-inspections on our Saturday mornings, while trying to glare at all of the other couples who were inspecting too.
Finally, we signed a lease on Saturday, and were given a jangly set of keys. We drove to our new apartment, and it was very exciting. We got into the apartment and just pranced around, marvelling at how large it was, and how it was SUCH a steal. Mind you, anyone else would laugh at the expensive rent, but in Sydney, you take what you can get. There was no furniture in it, so we did these weird rolls on the carpet, as though we were rolling down a hill. Just because we could. This is further proof of my theory, that true grown-up things can just make you more childlike.
Probably the worst bit of the day was doing the condition report. You know, looking out for things that are wrong with the place, so that the real estate agent doesn't nick off with your bond. We had this one disaster when we unrolled the balcony awning. To my horror, it was COVERED in dried pigeon poo. It looked like a Jackson Pollock painting. Then it wouldn't roll up again. So I had to get on a step-ladder (fetched from Mum and Dad's, of course), and then FIRMLY GRIP THE PIGEON POO as I rolled the awning back up. Geoff was holding onto me in case I fell off the balcony. Dried pigeon poo fell off in flakes...nay, chunks...and it fell in my hair and on my clothes. I whimpered, "This is the worst day of my life!" After that, I wanted to bathe in Dettol and gargle it too.
Far more amusing, was the dead cockroach that just wouldn't go off into the afterlife. We tried to flush it down the toilet, but it was like a happy little cork that wouldn't sink. Geoff stuck his hand into the toilet water, and he threw it over the balcony. It fell on the concrete, but of course, I did wish that someone I disliked could have walked under our balcony at that very moment.
I swear, one day, I will wake up and find out that I have a mortgage. And I will love it!
Anyway, whenever I go to work, people ask me how I am going with my wedding stuff. And let me tell you, it is SUCH a drag. Such a bore. I so wish I had a life right now. I don't have dates with my boyfriend any more...just meetings. Blergh. Top that off with the inevitable pressure to be thin (love handles and love just don't go together, darling), and everything becomes slightly dull and miserable. Geez. I don't even get to blog any more.
For my sake, I hope that I won't have any stories of pigeon poo- or any other type of poo- next time I write. |