Lucky me! I’m househunting again. I’m a professional Sydney real estate agent stalker. My kids and I have moved about 20 times. Months without buying avocado toast mean that one day I may be able to move to a home within 50 kilometres of an area I’d actually like to live in.
I have so many questions to ask a real estate agent:
Where is the step father accommodation?
Where is the step sibling spare bedroom?
Is there a sibling fight room away from the main house?
Can the main bedroom detach from the house and move 10 metres into the garden when the teenagers get too much?
Can the cat annexe the house?
Back in 1995, when I was drunk every night and kissing girls because boys asked me to and wearing absurd feathered dresses and talking shit until 4am with guys with ironic facial hair, I could have been buying a house for $250,000 and set myself up for a much more comfortable cranky middle age.
But now, thanks to negative gearing and government greed, I’ll never buy my own home. The only way that anyone earning under $250,000 i.e. single mothers, students, commies, pinkos, leftos, nurses, ambos and waiters will be able to buy a house is for one of these miracles to occur:
Winning the lottery
Conducting a scandalous affair with a billionaire
Or the most ridiculous:
Voting for politicians who have the bollocks to help workers afford vermin-free housing in big cities
Jokes. They don’t exist
Back in my day….
No one was allowed on a bus with a pram unless it was folded when I had babies. There were no special pram parking spots on buses or trains. But back then women didn’t think that spending two grand on a pram was a good idea because people actually believed they could one day own a home within four hours of Sydney, so they put the money towards their mortgage instead. Now everyone under the age of 50 in NSW is stuffing their faces with expensive avocadoes and craft cheeses because the idea of actually buying a car or a house in Broken Hill and commuting on overcrowded public transport and congested motorways is too much.
Rage is all the rage in our part of the world. Segue rage, bike rage, parking rage, WestConnex is raping my suburb rage, Saturday night there’s nowhere to go out and my rent is so high I can’t afford a social life anyway rage is all part of living in Sydney.
And the Bernard Salt groupies who voted for the anti-science numbskull pollies currently in power continue to negatively gear, tut tut and invoice government departments for their opinion. Sigh. Anyone else looking forward to the Sydney property crash?