I’m Not An Idiot. I’m a Homeowner.

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Jonny Caspari / Unsplash

I bought a house.

Signed the contract exactly six days ago. Went to view the house for the first time six days ago. Walked in and examined the wooden floorboards. Knew it was meant for me.

I know. What kind of idiot buys a house based on the wooden floorboards? But it wasn’t just the floorboards. It was the his-and-hers sinks in the ensuite bathroom as well. The potential to use one sink in the morning and one sink at night. Wash my hands in one, rinse out toothpaste in the other. Make them hers-and-hers sinks.

I took my dad with me. Asian accountant, obsessed over minor details, asks really in-depth questions of real estate agents that they usually can’t answer. I’m glad he came with me even though I distanced myself from him whenever he started interrogating the real estate agents.

He didn’t look at anything when we entered the house. Instead, he made a beeline for the agent and asked to see the deeds for the house. Meanwhile, I stood in the middle of the ensuite, inhaling deeply and gazing lovingly at the sinks.

I bought a house.

I bought a house because I’m easily influenced by others. I moved out of home at the beginning of this year to rent with two friends, brought together by a mutual desire to have wine-and-cheese nights on the reg and make spontaneous brunch plans whenever the need for long blacks called. I always had the notion that I would buy by the end of this year. Except that as the year progressed, my motivation to pursue this plan diminished.

Then, the question was posed to me: “What are you doing with your money?”

And my answer: “Nothing.”

It sits in a bank account not doing very much. Young people around me are investing or at least wasting it all on online shopping. I felt left behind. So, I resolved to buy a house. I resolved to buy a house and bought one within three weeks.

I’m at least a partial idiot. But that’s why I brought my dad with me. He can force the voice of reason into my mind when I want to throw down all of my savings for two sinks.

People have told me that sleeping naked is a real treat. I don’t sleep naked. Currently, I sleep in as many unattractive layers as I can find because our 1930s rental property is as cold as a witch’s tit in the depths of this Australian faux-winter. But sleeping naked is a prospective experience that I look towards with anticipation. This is just one other idiotic reason for buying a house.

I bought a house with full intentions of living like a homeless person for at least five years. This is my savvy financial plan. I will live with the bare necessities; fridge, washing machine, bed, maybe a dining table. No couches. Guests can sit on the floor or BYO their own chair if they are really choosy. Even the fridge is optional. Maybe I will turn to canning and kimchi.

I’m not an idiot. I’ve really thought this out. I made a spreadsheet. There’s only one column so far; the total of my mortgage.

“I bought a house!” I said to my friend four days ago.

“This is so exciting!” they said.

“It is!”

We used a lot of exclamation marks in our conversation.

I’m 25. Single. Soon to be hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt.

This is exciting.  TC mark

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