Restlessness
I’m trying to buy an apartment this year. I’m not terribly good at it. I can find places I quite like in locations I’d enjoy living, but the response I get when consulting with expert is basically the equivalent of a warning siren and the robot from Lost in Space flailing its arms in a panic. When I find places that are really quite solid investments, well made and reasonably priced, I look at their location and the streets that surround them and realise, should I live in this place alone, my future will involve unacceptable levels of boredom and self-loathing. There have been suggestions, in Australian media of late, that we’re far too hard on suburbia. Perhaps this is true. I grew up in the suburbs. I live in Brisbane, which is mostly a sprawling suburban expanse that goes on forever and ever, amen. I’m not good at that. I like the idea that there are people around, people I can go engage with. I like the idea that I can leave my house and there will be things to do within walking distance, regardless of the hour. This limits my options, in Brisbane. It limits my options quite a bit. I started this process expecting to be renting, trying to find a place to move before Christmas. When I realised I could afford a mortgage, the plans changed but I stayed packed, ready to move at a moment’s notice. All the advice I’ve been given about buying a