A couple of Thursdays ago we found out that Alan had been offered the job in the city, and then the following day we visited and fell in love with a preschool for Moses, one at which his friend from Kerry’s had just started AND which still had spaces for this year. I wanted to find an apartment the day after that and have our application approved two days after that, just for the tidiness of it, but it didn’t work out that way. Life’s just not interested in cool-sounding Facebook updates, apparently.
So we’ve spent the last three Saturdays driving to the St George region of Sydney and pushing Hazel’s easygoing nature to its limits as we race from one inspection to another, jumping in and out of the car and ignoring all normal routines. The first two weeks gave us a good idea of the area, and helped us to narrow our search; for example, we realised that we could never live in Beverly Hills for the simple reason that it would mean we’d be singing Weezer’s song every time we mentioned or thought about our address (“THAT’S where I want TO BE! Li-ving in Be-ver-ly Hi-ills!”), and neither Alan nor I were prepared to make that kind of sacrifice.
It’s possible it would have taken us less time to find somewhere had I not been in denial about how much rent we’d be expected to pay for an apartment. If you’d asked me that first week what one could get for around $400 per week somewhere centralish between Mortdale and Pyrmont, I’d have replied, “You know what you won’t get?! A spacious three bedroom house with built-ins and air conditioning and a backyard and a lock-up garage!” and then run away crying, arms flailing. After I stopped comparing the prices to those we’ve enjoyed out here in the western suburbs, it became easier to choose the right places to look at, and now I’m an expert at all things real-estate-y and apartment-y and St George-y.
My ever-positive mother-in-law has for the last few months been listening to our updates on jobs Alan was considering applying for and the places we were therefore thinking of moving to, and responding with enthusiasm:
“Byron Bay? Byron Bay’s not a good place to live, is it?”
“Christchurch? It’s a long way away.”
“Canberra? Canberra’s very cold.”
“Erskineville? Quite pricey.”
“Mortdale? Mort. That means death.”
This will be Alan’s 7th move and my 19th:
Sutherland > Campbelltown > Engadine > Uralla (Maitland Street) > Glen Innes > Uralla (Rowan Avenue) > Armidale (Murray Avenue) > Armidale (Jeffrey Street) > Bundall (QLD) > Engadine > Coogee (Arden Street) > Coogee (Brook Street) > Randwick (Avoca Street) > Randwick (Prince Street) > Coogee (Alison Road) > Lane Cove > Canterbury > Glenmore Park > Carlton.
I’m slowly covering all regions of Sydney. Maybe once that’s done we’ll finally be able to leave.