...suburban and coke

I never realised buying a house is such a protracted affair. Oh my God!

Why can't it be simple? Why can't you just walk into The House Shop and say "I'll have 42 tonnes of house please! Do you deliver to affordable suburbs?" And why are there so many people involved that look like either a gameshow host, an apprentice game show host or an extra from Prisoner.

It's oddly like shopping around for another life at the moment, or at least shopping for the scenery we'll be looking at for the next 5+ years, what we're spending big bucks on, what we're going to be constantly fixing.

"Should we go the ready-made, modern, urbane life, or perhaps an old, rambling, big block, outdoorsy future? Hmmm. I guess it depends on what's on special, and if they'll throw in a free lemon tree".

But it's sort of exciting at the same time. Finding a nest, a home, a hub for a new family. Though I reckon the birds have got it figured out; find a tree and stuff you mouth full of twigs and grass. Simple! At least they don't have to spend every Saturday hangin' out with Larry Emdur and Pat the Rat.


Update: The Bub has ten fingers and ten toes (total). It has a normal heartbeat, and it freaked Daddy out for the first time by suddenly rolling over when I was looking at him/her during an ultrasound. Tonight we put in an offer on a 3bdr weatherboard on a nice big block with definately enough room for a toddler to swing a cat in. Sorry Moochy.

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