The ‘auto’ setting on our new washing machine (where it senses the amount and type of clothing and selects water level/wash function to match) is called ‘Fuzzy’. This amuses me to no end.
I was entertained all the way to work the other day listening to two ladies converse behind me on the bus. One was quite shocked when the other did not leap to reassure her that of course she would be a bridesmaid!
Change has been all for the BETTER lately, as has the four-day weekend. But! One thing they have not been good for is creating new routines.
We’re now a bit further away from butcher/grocer (though we’re still super close to a supermarket) and T has started playing sports again, with training twice a week. Add to that the fact he’s knocking back protein shakes all the time and you can see why we haven’t found our food groove yet. Plus, we tend to do one shared dinner a week on Sunday or Monday with the flatties.
A lot of people seem to swear by intense organisation – but that’s definitely not our style.
For one, we tend to go by what’s fresh and on special. (Supermarkets do mailers detailing weekly sales but butchers and grocers do not.)
For another, T does most of our dinner cooking, and he’s definitely not a recipe kinda guy. That said, we both get into pretty serious food ruts that can be quite paralysing.
Neither of us are into prepping stuff ahead of time, either. (Sometimes I’ll make a few days of lunches on Sunday and that’s about it. Lunchwise he has an awesome inhouse cafeteria where he’s working so that’s him sorted.) But maybe it’s worth a go, at least with certain kinds of veggies.
I guess I’m just trying to figure out the best way to integrate a bit of planning and getting meal inspiration (which for me comes from recipes online and for him probably more like food shows).
April is always a goodie – a four-day weekend for Easter, plus a three-dayer for Anzac Day!
After the madness that was March, and the annus horriblus that was most of 2014-2015, I’m really really hoping for a break. One chilled out month to regroup and replenish with soul-feeding things, like…
I’m rediscovering the beach/bush trails just a few minutes from home, the same ones my friends and I used to roam as teenagers. They’re so blissfully peaceful, with nobody else around – a world apart from civilisation yet just a few steps away.
The flatmates are into games too, so we’ve had a few game nights already! I don’t have a TON of board games but so far Cards Against Humanity has been dominating. (We’ve worked our way through most of the cards now, though.)
I’m pretty sure I’m past the songwriting phase of my life, but I want to get back to learning some songs that have been on my wishlist forever. It’s a lot easier to pick up my guitar when there’s actually space to play, rather than having to manoeuvre it out of its case, cram myself into a corner between the bed and wall and sit right next to my amp.
Ever since Webstock a little corner of my brain has been wanting to start something. What, I don’t know. But I can definitely start with things that I’ve been wanting to do but just haven’t been in the right headspace to do yet, like get some of our wedding photos printed and hung on the wall; make a photo album from our RTW travel photos; and a video montage of our travel footage.
Alas, the spa jets in the bath don’t seem to work, but even so, it’s an epic tub with ample room for one or two people. I foresee a trip to Lush in the near future to pick out cute stuff to make bathtime extra fun.
There is no bigger nightmare than competing for housing in a growing city.
Ever-more intrusive rental applications
Self-explanatory. With a growing population and not enough housing to meet needs, this is what happens.
For some reason, there’s a fair few properties being advertised as available for only 3-6 months, and others are advertised as longer fixed term leases with no mention of possible extension. Weird.
Renting out houses in two parts
Bigger houses are increasingly being rented out as separate upstairs and downstairs floors, self-contained.
More heat pumps
More properties than ever before now have heat pumps installed, which is a good thing. And I’m seeing more frequent mentions of insulation as a selling point… since, you know, having proper insulation is still the bloody exception. Still the minority, though.
The misery is widespread #solidarity
Why yes, I have been devouring everything on the internet related to our property clusterf***. What’s new?
“I don’t want to be a landlord – I just want to own my own home so I stop getting kicked out of rentals. It just happened again last week and I’ll have to find somewhere else to live, yet again. It’s exhausting and demoralising…”
“Our lease is up in April. Not looking forward to this shit. Saw so many places with obvious damp or complete lack of weather tightness last time around. Property managers get outright aggressive if you ask about landlord’s plans to resolve damp, usually saying it’s already solved (despite damp smell and to the touch).
“Bring on WOF, willing to pay more to not get sick from shitty housing.”
After 5 years of living on our own (wow, it feels longer) it will be strange to live with others again. The good thing is we have our own bathroom – we’ve moved into the downstairs floor of a house, so we’re largely self contained. And the others aren’t home much.
I am SO excited to have:
room to breathe! To swing a cat, even! There’s actually a cat, no kidding. No more constantly tripping over each other. Space to do stretches, play guitar, and just live alongside, rather than on top of, one another. Even if I wasn’t married to a hulk, I hate small spaces. Micro apartments and tiny houses can bugger right off. Unpopular opinion, I know. Lack of living space has caused us a lot of misery over the years.
a full kitchen! A real stove and oven, and a DISHWASHER (thinking back to previous places where we had a dishwasher, life was vastly improved.)
a diningtable (I have never lived anywhere with a dining space since leaving home)
a bathtub (in the main bathroom)
outdoor living space (the deck is epic)
no sharing any of the following with neighbours – driveway/water meter/bins/yard etc
And we won’t know for sure for a little while, but it seems like a decently warm and dry house. (Fun fact: I now have a new warning sign to look out for, thanks to a random person who was at one of the same open homes as we were. “There’s a bit of dampness – you can feel it in the carpet,” she said to her daughter. Indeed, upon further reflection, there’s definitely something to that). It was a family home for decades, so that bodes well.
I was really not sure I could make it through another winter in our last place. Also, our neighbours were becoming even bigger pains in the ass, and traffic along my bus route was getting downright unbearable. Now my commute is shorter despite having a longer walk at the city end from the bus stop.
Still, there will be no rest until we are owners. Your place is not your own otherwise – you’re at the mercy of leaseholders/head tenants, property managers, landlords. I can’t wait to have a permanent home – one we never have to budge from as long as we make our payments, and that we can truly make our own. I want a heat pump and/or amazing insulation. A spare bedroom. A garage/workshop for him. A pizza oven, that we’ll build in our yard. And a dog. I can’t express how intense my nesting urges are.
I know my property fixation is not good for my mental health and happiness, and I’m trying to get it under control. I almost feel a physical stab every time I hear of someone I know managing to buy their first home.
Example: A former coworker who failed to buy property a few years ago and bowed out of the game, calling it a bubble, has just bought a place. Prices have only gone up since then, so I presume she saw the light and got in while she could. Interest rates can only go up so much before they fall; the same is not true of house prices, and I see nothing that actually points to a real reason for a crash (the way things are going, nothing short of a nuclear explosion would reverse population growth, and we don’t have nuclear plants here).
So: trying to get this real estate thing down to ‘motivational’ levels rather than ‘obsession’. Which should be easier now we don’t live in such a tiny hovel.
That’s twice now the property manager has been an absolute twat upon moving out.
Last time around, dealing with them was a breeze throughout the entire tenancy … until our last afternoon. It was literally the day before we flew out of the country, leaving for 6 months. We waited, shivering, in our garage, as the rain started coming down, for the PM to show up for final inspection. Numerous calls to his phone went unanswered. Finally we gave up, placed the keys in the house and left. First thing in the morning, he starts trying to get in touch asking what happened – useless much? No, we are literally leaving the country TONIGHT, we do not have time to come back for a walkthrough – you will have to do it without us. We didn’t get our bond back until we returned to NZ, either – he never sent through the paperwork to me and I had to chase him for it when we came back to the country.
This time around, it was with an even bigger (and thus, ostensibly more professional) agency. Alas, they turned out to be douchebags pretty early on, and every time I thought it couldn’t get worse, it kept building until move-out. These guys instruct you to drop off the keys at the office, and then do the final inspection on their own rather than going through the house with you in person. Two days later we heard from them – outlining an absolute litany of basic complaints about cleaning. (The legal requirement is to leave a property ‘reasonably clean and tidy’, which translated to a pretty grey area. However, I can tell you never had an issue at ANY of the many places we’ve lived. We know how to mop a floor and scrub a shower.) They also conveniently ‘forgot’ that they had sold us the fridge upon move-in (for owner had wanted to get rid of it, probably as it was getting older) and more or less accused us of stealing it. Oh, and I’m not even going to go into the dramas they caused in trying to force us to move out earlier than our planned date.
I’ve been thinking a lot about power, and the imbalance of it in the renting market. I’ve already been incredibly stressed out for months on end, and this whole situation with the house has basically doubled my stress levels since the start of the year. I made the decision early on that my priority was getting the hell out of here with as little headache as possible, while knowing the agency was highly likely to make it a hassle based on their behaviour to date.
So often it’s a question of where you can afford the time/money to pursue a conflict. For example, they insisted on going ahead with hiring a cleaner anyway (end result: splitting the bill). As another example: it’s actually unlawful to have a clause in a lease requiring carpet cleaning at the end of the tenancy. However you’ll find these in many, many contracts. I know I have, and gone along with it because in a tight market it’s a miracle if you can get approved for a place at all.
And for bigger stuff … Do you really want to jeopardise your chances of ever getting another place to live, if you take something to the Tenancy Tribunal and have that associated with your name as public record (no matter what the result)?
You know it’s time to go shopping when you have recurring dreams about clothes.
I wish I was kidding. I’ve lost count now of the number of times I’ve dreamt about finding new items hidden away in my closet. (Waking up in every case has been surprisingly disappointing.)
I really hate shopping. I tend to buy stuff in bursts – bundle up the pain, I guess. And it’s about time for one of those, since I haven’t bought anything in about a year. Belt-tightening (figuratively) and all that.
It’s embarrassing how many of my clothes are faded, stained, torn or need to be firmly retired to ‘at home’ status only for whatever reasons. I’m 27 this year and badly need to update my wardrobe accordingly.
Where to start? At the minimum:
Jeans (probably one dark and one light/medium)
At least one long-sleeved top
A non-summery skirt
And maybe a soft blazer?
I am really not looking forward to this quest. Fashionista friends, put me in your prayers.
Here’s a fun one. How much do you wind up paying in traffic fines a year?
I would say we average a couple a year or so. Parking in Auckland is not as tight as it is in other bigger cities, so parking tickets aren’t usually our bugbear. (And by ‘our’ I mean ‘his’ since I don’t actually drive.) Instead, it’s generally cutting into bus lanes too soon when turning, or going over the speed limit. And since we have a history of owning sad old cars (the only kind we could afford) there have been a couple of fines for being between warrants of fitness.
I feel like it’s just one of these inevitables of life if you own a car, one that barely registers on the scale of ‘worth talking about’. That said … a couple of people on Facebook recently posted about getting tickets. One for having no warrant of fitness and being parked on the road as their house has no off street parking – OH HOW I SYMPATHISE – and the other one, well, I don’t recall, except for the fact she thought it was BS. Don’t we all, though?
This week’s links
I am loving this Slate series, Best Laid Plans, featuring real people and their varied/unpredictable career paths
I subscribe to a handful of travel deal newsletters, and among these is Jetstar’s weekly Friday flight alerts.
Normally I scan the subject line and delete right away. But one day in November last year, the phrase “2 for 1” caught my eye.
Even with all the add-ons that budget airlines slap you with, a 2 for 1 fare puts you well ahead! And thus, we’re going to Tokyo in September.
Would you pay $5 to guarantee you and your travel partner could sit together on a flight?
Personally, I wasn’t sure at first. After all, on our flight from Reykjavik to New York, we didn’t get to choose our seats (either we checked in too late, or I missed that step somewhere along the line) and T and I wound up sitting several rows apart. And that was totally fine. It must be said, though, that this was toward the latter part of our trip , so we’d already spent a ton of time together.
But $10 (for both of us) per flight in the grand scheme of things is not a lot, so I stumped up.
I am slightly toward the tall end of average for a woman and even I feel claustrophobic in economy class. So I have lots of sympathy for T.
I think it was on one of our short European flights that we got to change seats with another passenger in the exit row, and enjoy extra legroom for free. Let me tell you, that was a revelation!
Anyway, I balked at the $45 price tag for seats in the rows with extra leg room, but T‘s best sad face convinced me. And since it’s not possible to sit together and have only one person get extra leg room, that came to $90 per flight. (I would sit apart to save money, but apparently that wasn’t acceptable.)
It might even be worth it for me. I gotta say, the older you get, the more you’re willing to pay for comfort.
The in flight meal menu looked absolutely dire. And this is where I drew the line. No way am I paying for what looks like a terrible attempt at a meat pie, or chicken and rice. Instead, we will fuel up and stock up at the airport before we leave.
Y’all, things have been so wrong for so long. Relationships are jeezy when things are easy but bloody tough when life itself gets hard. So many times I’ve wondered if it was worth it – feeling shortchanged, struggling with who’s in the wrong, trying to apply rationality to a relationship and coming up with no definitive answers. We’re told that good things are worth fighting for, but the right things should come easily/naturally. Where is the line between clinging to the Titanic, and being a fairweather partner unwilling to stick it out through the bad?
(I wish life came with a rulebook. I’ve come to realise this is one of those decisions you have to make for yourself on an individual basis.)
As you read this, we should be up north for a wedding and spending the weekend away from home. I wasn’t sure we’d make it to this day, but we have. What doesn’t break you makes you stronger.
On that note, I want to share a couple of posts on brutal honesty:
It’s easier to hide behind a good story. It’s easier to crop things and filter things and pretend you are holding the world together all on your own. It’s easier to get validation from “likes” instead of hard conversations. We live in a world where slipping out the back door, quietly and unnoticeably, is easier than it used to be. We have more stuff to hide behind than ever before. More password-protected caves to store our identities inside of.
It all boils down to love and honesty and humility. It doesn’t always have to come in that order. Love to fill in the spaces. Honesty to sew up the gaps. Humility to keep us coming back to one another, more human than yesterday and more flawed than tomorrow will allow.
There’s something really lovely about finally being flawed, and seen, and hopeful.
When we start to look up to people, we don’t do it because we think they’re perfect. We do it because we like them, and we admire them. But then we get lost, and we end up comparing ourselves, and finding ourselves wanting—completely without evidence.
The rest of this week’s links
Danielle and I are in totally the same boat on this – we even work in the same field – just swap Toronto for Auckland. Will we ever own a home?!