I need somewhere new to live. Or rather I will soon. In a past life (one that ended in 2008) I was an estate agent in Spain. During that time I caught the property bug and now I enjoy one of the things I hated most when I was a child: looking at houses.
The other things I hated most included looking at antique furniture or – while on holiday in Turkey – looking at Persian rugs. Seriously, who wants to spend their weekend/holiday doing that?
But I digress.
Property search used to be mainly about price. And staying away from the neighbour where people sold drugs out the window.
Now it’s all about compromise.
If we leave the amazing location, the daily commute will involve a train and a bus for my son and fighting my way through a hell of a lot more traffic for me.
If we stay in the amazing location, I’ll probably lose my bedroom. Back to a sofa bed in the living room. I thought I was past that stage…
We also may not get a balcony. I really want a balcony. Perfect to sit outside and read in the summer.
But we may get a dog. That might be the deal breaker.
So it’s not really about the property. It’s about trying to decide and plan the next few years. Finding out what is important and what kind of life I want.
One of those easy, every day things that can be accomplished quickly without any drama.
Maybe I’ll just read a book for a while instead. Or keep writing and hope that this one will appeal to an literary agent. Or to Mandy and her bookclub. That would be fantastic.