The Divine Comedy…Of Ophelia’s House Hunt

Part of being jobless and needing to move is, well, job hunting and needing to move. You know, before one becomes homeless. Now, I don’t know about you all, but that money-tree just isn’t working. So…one has to get it right the first time because one can’t afford to get it wrong. Challenge accepted (because I’m just not ready to live under a bridge. My hair just can’t handle that sort of thing).

The last couple of weeks have been just -filled- with highs and lows of this hunt. Mostly lows. I’ve had appointments cancelled while I was in my car -at- the property. I’ve been to one property where she couldn’t get in and invited me to kick the door… another where they failed to mention it was a room with a loo and a kitchen in it. Another that had the saddest Swedish man I’ve ever met…. Nothing says ‘I’m having a great day’ like standing in the wreckage of someone else’s life and being the vulture.

It has been a comedy of errors and just as I was losing hope, the one property they could never get me in to (cancelled like 4 times…) finally bore fruit. They could get me in! And right there, from the kitchen, I rang in, left my deposit… and -bam- just like that, I think I might not be living under a bridge. I’ve not signed anything yet, mind you…. but hey, I’m on the right road!

Now, if I could just get the job tied down… this situation might be turning around. Who knows? In a fortnight this could ease in to a blog about living as a single chick in the city centre. Fingers crossed, eh?

In the mean time, I need to pack. And that’s utterly, mind numbingly, blahhhhhh. I keep laying hints for a packing fairy to pitch up, but so far nothing has happened. Maybe the packing fairy is camped out under the money tree?

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