Some things are easy.
‘Would you like chocolate or coffee cake?’ ‘Both please.’
‘Would you like to live in this slightly grotty flat or be homeless?’ ‘The flat, please.’
See, easy. And that literally was the choice when I moved in here. There was a timescale, it was nearly up, and over the past four and a half years the slightly grotty flat has become our home. It isn’t grotty at all. I don’t know why that was my first impression anymore. Probably because when I viewed it, it had been empty for months meaning it was cold and dusty. Viewing on a dark December day didn’t help.
In reality it is a vast, lovely, wonky old building, built in the late 18th century and with not a straight floor or door in sight. I adore it’s size and of course all the love filling it has made it ours.
But we want to move, we want a garden and some parking now the teen has passed her test. This is where decision making is hard. There is no sword of Damocles, we have all the time in the world in theory, and I am struggling to make decisions.
I have always been a delayer. Homework at the last minute, work deadlines scurried through. Given time I prevaricate. A prime example of my ability to get easily diverted from the matter in hand is that I was looking for an image for this post. ‘Which house?’ is what I popped into google images. Did I choose an image? No, I got distracted by a ‘Which character in House MD are you?’ quiz. Dr. House of course.
Going back to the cake question, it is like I have been asked to choose a cake, but whichever cake I choose, I can only eat that cake for the next few years. And not only that, but the cake varieties are only being made available every couple of weeks, and if you don’t choose that chocolate cake you saw yesterday, it might be all gone once you have viewed next weeks lemon cake and realised that the chocolate cake was right for you all along.
In that circumstance I am terrible at decisions. I don’t want to miss out on the theoretical perfect thing by taking the almost perfect thing in front of me.
If I was buying, I would be all about the heart, but we are renting, so I guess it is about practicalities. One of the problems is that I have eyes bigger than my budget. The houses I dream of are beyond our purse.
Off for a second viewing this morning. A nice house. Maybe we will take it. Am taking my other half with me, in the hope that he is better at deciding than me. Given that it can take us an hour to choose what to eat for tea, I don’t hold out an awful lot of hope for a quick decision about something that is going to cost us a few thousand pounds, but the rental market here moves too quickly for ditherers.
My teenager has been getting right into the whole experience, and has been overdosing on Location, Location, Location. She keeps going all Allsop on me, and pointing out all my irrational behaviours and the positives in the houses we view. I am half expecting her to start pointing out which walls we should knock through – though I can’t imagine many landlords are looking for teen demolition experts as tenants. She is often right in what she says though, half considering letting her decide!
So what is it to be – a Victoria sponge or do we wait for the three tiered extravaganza?
Love Miss Cisco XXX