Of course, the odds that we’ll be successful at auction seem perishingly slim. It’s very hard to gauge how much interest there is in the house. I know at least one other prospective purchaser has had a building inspection; the agent seems to think that others have dragged their builders through. Who knows? They could have been massively turned off by its state of repair. Sadly, I’ve fallen in love with the idea of it, even though:
- It has at least two layers of peeling wallpaper;
- There are visible signs of bora in some of the floorboards;
- The window on the third bedroom doesn't close, due to it, um, what's the technical term? Falling apart;
- There is SO. MUCH. GROSS. linoleum on the kitchen/bathroom/laundry floors;
- No insulation or heating as far as I'm aware;
- It's heinously expensive for a do-up; and
- If we do buy it, we can't really afford to do it up. So yeah, there's that.
This is not 20s-me. She was scornful of this sort of behaviour. (She also wanted a cat though, we share that in common at the least.)
AND - if we’re unsuccessful at our first auction, we do know this other great little place in Freeman’s Bay….
If I wasn’t property-obsessed before, I certainly am now.