Wifey called me yesterday evening while I was driving out to dinner with the mates, "Muffy dearest, we're moving house".
She likes to break bad news to me at the most inconvenient of times. A Beemer was tailgating me and I was trying to cut a blardy woman driver in a Chrysler Voyager 5 sizes too big for her infront of me. Road-hogging bitch!
And so I let out a desperate wail into the handsfree "Whaaaaaaat!?!"
Our landlord had called earlier and informed the wife that he was going to sell the apartment. Apparently even with the rent that we were paying him, he couldn't keep up with the monthly mortgage and maintenance payments. He and his Missus had lived in the spanking-new apartment for all of 2 months when we took over. Even back then, they couldn't pay up. Sounds bizarre but his dad had put in the downpayment for the 690k lovenest as a wedding gift. Trouble is, sonny-boy was expected to service the loan but had cashflow problems. The Maths should have been done before buying ya? Sheesh!
Well this is what you get for being vain and trying to live beyond your means.
So now, 1 year and 3 months into our 2-year tenancy agreement, wifey and me have to start looking for a new place after Christmas. I wonder why we signed the agreement in the first place since its not legally binding and as good as that piece of old newspaper our doggies pee and poop on. Double Sheesh!
Everytime I think of having to pack-up the kitchen I get a headache. All the wrapping of those plates, utensils and other breakables. Not to mention moving my wine collection and cleaning the fridge of junk. Triple Sheesh!
I'm going to miss the competition-specced pool plus the cosy gym and sauna. And the Japanese honeys out on the sundeck :P Also the whiff of grilled seafood from the BBQ pits by the river.
Lets see if we can find another apartment out for rent in the same estate. Now that would help ease the shifting blues somewhat! :))