Between a Rock and a Hard Place: The Realities of Cheap Rent
February 22nd 2008 01:42
I have been living on my own for just over 2 years. This set-up began when I started uni, so at the forefront of my concerns was to find somewhere cheap. First I started my hunt for a potential housemate- basic maths: as tenants increase, rent decreases. So I set up an account on a house-mate finding website, which turns out to be some weird hybrid of an online dating service.... just with more scope for stalkers and the tiring weeding out of freaks. The first candidate I met up with was a 'recovering' psychotic. He was openly paranoid that people were trying to switch his meds with brain-washing tablets. Of the endless stream of social misfits directed my way by the website, he was probably the front-runner. There was also the goth/emo who collected barbies, but gothed them up then displayed them side-by-side in her loungeroom come goth-hate-barbie-shrine. Then there was the alternative, vegan, red-Birkenstock wearing and aggressively pessimistic politics student.... who, as it turned out, was actually reared with a silver spoon up his arse and drove his father's BMW. The others, for the sake of my psychological welfare, I've forgotten about completely. Needless to say, I ended up opting to live solo.
I found a cheap place in a nice area. It was one of 6 in a relatively dingy block of flats.I was soon well acquainted with the catch-22 of cheap rent.... My neighbours.
Apartment 1- BARRY : My bet is that he's a 60 year old recluse. In the entire 2 years, I haven't seem him once in daylight hours. He enjoys listening to talk-back radio and horse racing results at the maximum decibels that his radio can muster. On his door he has a lamenated newspaper snippet that reads 'God Save Our Gracious Queen'. He also cooks steak everynight and uses ocean-themed plastic shower curtains as window furnishings.
Apartment 2 - NAN, POPS, GRAMPS, RED-SHOE GUY, GIRL, LITTLE GIRL, LITTLEST GIRL & MAN : The oddly quiet and extremely large Vietnamese family (these are one-bedroom studio apartments). I can't be exactly sure how many people live there, or whether they just host many visitors, but so far I have counted 3 possible grandparent figures, 1 guy in his early 20's, 3 children under 12, one middle aged man. None of them appreciate eye contact.
Apartment 4 - BITCH-FACE AND BEEF-CAKE : Cranky professional-looking woman in her early thirty's. In my time there, I have gathered strong evidence to support that she openly hates the following: Me, all of my friends, the noises my car makes, days that only threaten to rain, Barry's cat, Mondays, the laundry light switch, Desperate Housewives..... and life in general I'm guessing. She funnels this rage through the twisted outlet of insisting on doing her washing when I do mine.... just to make things explicitly and unbelievably awkward between us Bitch-Face thrives in my fumbling attempt to maintain small talk, while simultaneously trying to look busy and perplexed by my washing. Bitch-face has a weekly domestic with her personal-trainer boyfriend who drives a ridiculously pimped-out off-road 4WD. His conversations with me always start with "Jodie, what do ya know-de?!". I've never bothered correcting him on what my name actually is.... As I suspect that ingenius rhyme didn't come about so easily.
Apartment 5 - HOUDINI I have absolutely no idea . A man (or possibly big footed woman) with very large steal-capped workman's boots, who- by the constant sounds of dragging of heavy objects- is constantly changing around his/her furniture. He/she also particularly enjoys vacuuming while listening to Pink's most recent album.
Apartment 6 - GREG Greg tells me he's 32, but I suspect he's closer to 45. Every time I park, he insists that I do not park in what he considers to be 'his' car space (although there are not delegated spaces). He hesitantly admits to not owning a car, but is adament one day he'll buy one and will have no-where to park it. He also personally returns supposedly 'misplaced' mail to me on a weekly basis, and emphizes his disbelief that the postman keeps putting my mail in his mailbox.
Worth mentioning also, are the multiple pairs of my underwear have been stolen from the communal washing line. Guessing who is wearing them is an ongoing and Cluedo-like process... and your guess is as good as mine.
Apartment 1- BARRY : My bet is that he's a 60 year old recluse. In the entire 2 years, I haven't seem him once in daylight hours. He enjoys listening to talk-back radio and horse racing results at the maximum decibels that his radio can muster. On his door he has a lamenated newspaper snippet that reads 'God Save Our Gracious Queen'. He also cooks steak everynight and uses ocean-themed plastic shower curtains as window furnishings.
Apartment 2 - NAN, POPS, GRAMPS, RED-SHOE GUY, GIRL, LITTLE GIRL, LITTLEST GIRL & MAN : The oddly quiet and extremely large Vietnamese family (these are one-bedroom studio apartments). I can't be exactly sure how many people live there, or whether they just host many visitors, but so far I have counted 3 possible grandparent figures, 1 guy in his early 20's, 3 children under 12, one middle aged man. None of them appreciate eye contact.
Apartment 4 - BITCH-FACE AND BEEF-CAKE : Cranky professional-looking woman in her early thirty's. In my time there, I have gathered strong evidence to support that she openly hates the following: Me, all of my friends, the noises my car makes, days that only threaten to rain, Barry's cat, Mondays, the laundry light switch, Desperate Housewives..... and life in general I'm guessing. She funnels this rage through the twisted outlet of insisting on doing her washing when I do mine.... just to make things explicitly and unbelievably awkward between us Bitch-Face thrives in my fumbling attempt to maintain small talk, while simultaneously trying to look busy and perplexed by my washing. Bitch-face has a weekly domestic with her personal-trainer boyfriend who drives a ridiculously pimped-out off-road 4WD. His conversations with me always start with "Jodie, what do ya know-de?!". I've never bothered correcting him on what my name actually is.... As I suspect that ingenius rhyme didn't come about so easily.
Apartment 5 - HOUDINI I have absolutely no idea . A man (or possibly big footed woman) with very large steal-capped workman's boots, who- by the constant sounds of dragging of heavy objects- is constantly changing around his/her furniture. He/she also particularly enjoys vacuuming while listening to Pink's most recent album.
Apartment 6 - GREG Greg tells me he's 32, but I suspect he's closer to 45. Every time I park, he insists that I do not park in what he considers to be 'his' car space (although there are not delegated spaces). He hesitantly admits to not owning a car, but is adament one day he'll buy one and will have no-where to park it. He also personally returns supposedly 'misplaced' mail to me on a weekly basis, and emphizes his disbelief that the postman keeps putting my mail in his mailbox.
Worth mentioning also, are the multiple pairs of my underwear have been stolen from the communal washing line. Guessing who is wearing them is an ongoing and Cluedo-like process... and your guess is as good as mine.
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