My Perfect Manor

Life would be so much easier if we were back in the 1700s. You didn’t need to worry about getting on the property ladder, or saving up for years for the deposit on a tiny apartment in the city centre without so much as a supermarket nearby. No, you were either born into poverty- so you were born and died in the same house- or you were born into the aristocracy, and you inherited a mansion. There were no middle-sized homes, did you know? Yep, just hovels and mansions. Hovels and mansions, all over the dang place. I’ve only ever seen period dramas, but I’m pretty sure that was the way of things.

Then someone came up with the idea of BUYING homes, and suddenly everything got complicated. Now I have our financial planner asking us if we’ve considered the services of a buyers advocate. Specialists in Melbourne just have no end, it would seem. I had to stroke my chin and pretend I knew what that was while making a mental note to google it when we got home. Apparently they help you look for high-end property, which sounds great because I don’t think finding a home has ever been as hard as it right here and now, in 2018. Melbourne. Australia. Earth.

This is why we had a financial planner in the first place: so that we could get through this stuff, paperwork and all. Now I guess we need a buyers advocate because the thought of pounding the pavement, looking at homes and trying to pretend that we know exactly what we like and do not like, is not one that appeals to me. Certain people just exist in the world to take the pressure off. Electricians, estate agents, pet sitters, gardeners…and now, I guess, buyers advocates. Melbourne┬áhome buyers better prepare, because we’re here, we have no clue what we want and what we’re doing, and we’re stressed about it. Hide your desk mints; I eat when I’m stressed.