There's no place like home

Do you rent? Have you ever had the pleasure?

We've been renting our current place for two and three-quarter years (but who's counting). I've spent most of that time feeling like an outsider in this town and it's only been the possibility of actually leaving that has made me realise I am starting to belong.

We're not moving now after all. External factors are partly responsible. A new bus route means I can now easily get to my old suburb to visit friends (so thank you anonymous transport department worker).

Also after seeing some of the run-down expensive hovels in our price range our current house is looking very good indeed.

Just before we decided to forget about moving we found what I thought was the right house. It needed a lot of work. The paint was falling off the walls as if it were large sheets of butcher paper, tacked on many years ago and then forgotten, left blank. It flopped dismally, almost reaching the carpet which if possible was in an even sadder state.

But it was relatively cheap. Sydney is an expensive city whichever way you look at it. You either spend your money on rent or on transport getting in and out of the city.

Anyway, we were willing to do the work so we applied. Which is not like saying we applied for a credit card (though admittedly that kind of application comes already filled out, in my mailbox, with a toll free number to ring to activate my pre-approved billion dollar limit). It's not even like applying for a job which requires some hard work and not a small amount of anxiety.

No, applying for a rental property involves revealing several pages of private financial details, copies of no less than eight payslips (and I'm sorry, but what gives a real estate agent* the right to see exactly what I earn, my employee number, sick days, annual leave etc. Are they priests now, or doctors? Lawyers?)

Then they want personal and professional references from current and past jobs, past addresses, emergency contact details and my relationship with the person listed. (Stasi files anyone?)

I need to provide copies of several forms of ID. If I want to fill this information out online I have the option of paying a private company some money so that the application is sent faster. Or else I can painstakingly type out or write out all of this information for every application.

Oh, and they want to know if I'm applying for other properties too. Why? Does this disqualify me? Is it a monogamy thing now?

And then you are rejected. And they don't tell you why. Even though you've spent a couple of hours on this thing they won't spend a minute to tell you why (except once a few years ago when they told us that it was because someone else had offered more money.)

Wow, I didn't realise how angry I still am. (I can tell I'm getting hysterical when I put words in bold.)

I realised after that though that I wasn't ready to throw myself back into the pool, offer myself up for rejection, waste my Saturdays at inevitably disappointing viewings, jostling 10 or 20 other people along narrow and dirty hallways, trying to imagine this place as home, and then going too far and actually hoping it might be.

And I'm not even the one suffering from depression. J tried very hard to cope but it very quickly got him down (so we were synchronised then).

He said, "We don't have to do this." And I took a deep breath and had a cry and realised he was right. I'm fine where I am, really. I will give this place another go because it's infinitely better than going through that process over and over again.

We talked together about what we would do. He was utterly reasonable, acknowledging my need for independence, for eventual security about where we live. But he made me see that I didn't need to panic and up stakes and run for it like I have a tendency to do.

So the deal is that we are working together to save up as much cash as we can and then decide where to go in a year. We want to do it before T starts school so we're in a place where we'll be happy to stay for six or seven years.

It feels amazing to be in a partnership like this, where I don't feel the need to temper my emotions in case they're too much for someone and where I don't have to figure it out on my own.

So I spent a day reorganising my bookshelves and doing a bit of a spring clean. The boxes are going to some other poor sod for now. I hope that's not you, though if it is you can be assured of some sympathy from me.

Flo

*See also: vacuous, over-inflated, self aggrandising, judgmental, "I was only doing my job I didn't know it was the Hitler Youth", never paid a day's rent in my life. Apologies to anyone out there who is one. Maybe you're the one in a million that's different.