Yes, house hunting is hard. Are you doing it on your own, though, or perhaps with your significant other? If so, count yourself lucky, because house hunting with kids is… how can I describe it? Imagine a stampede of knee-high rhinos running around like they’ve just downed a triple espresso apiece, and you’re responsible for them, and you’re trying to find a house to buy at the same time. Occasionally, one of the rhinos lies down on the floor and starts screaming about how boring it is, invariably when you’re mid-conversation about what year the re-stumping was carried out.
If someone could just go and, like, proof-view houses on my behalf, that’d be helpful. Then I could just go to the ones that were likely contenders. I realise that this is, in fact, a possibility, but hiring a buyers agent based in Melbourne is kind of out of my price range. As it stands, the kids/rhinos are getting dragged around to every overpriced dump in town, and they’re getting jack of it more quickly than I anticipated. It’s a problem, because I want them to be involved in the selection process. I mean, it’s not like I’m going to let the make the final call or anything – oh, god no. But I’d like to at least see how they respond to the houses I’m looking at, in case there’s something I’ve overlooked that might affect them.
In any case, I don’t know how many more viewings I can bring them to before I have a nervous breakdown, or else die of embarrassment. At the last one, Rhino #1 was like, “The person who lives here must be really fat because all the floorboards have cracks in them.” He said it pretty loudly, too. I think everyone just thought it was funny, but still. It’s just a matter of time before he comes out with something that causes offence – possibly to the seller of my dream home, who then ups the price by twenty grand. That, or Rhino #2 does a number two in the bath. That’s come pretty close to actually happening.