The Money Pit

Sometimes on the weekend we look at houses, just to make ourselves feel miserable. It always works. On Saturday we decided to check out a place in Annandale that was only a few hundred thousand dollars out of our price range.

OH.

MY.

GOD.

We expected the house to be falling down. It surpassed all expectations. It wasn't just the broken tiles and leaking toilets. I think it had been lived in by five generations of male students (how could I tell they were male? Well, the sci-fi books on the shelves were a bit of a giveaway.) who had never, in all those generations, cleaned or tidied the house. Piles of junk had been grudgingly pushed aside to allow the 40 couples who turned up to crawl through the house. The grass in the garden was taller than me (yeah yeah, not hard, I know).

And what is amazing is that someone will pay a ridiculous amount of money for it, then spend more ridiculous amounts of money on fixing it. I hate Sydney.