I suspect this house is built on an ancient burial ground. It's either that or it's a piece of shit, but it's more fun to believe we're cursed or something.
When we moved here, it was the best of a bad bunch. We were issued our marching orders from our last place when I was seven months pregnant. We scrambled to look for places in a similar range but what we found was mostly dire, mouldy, stinky, overgrown. This place wasn't much better but we liked the backyard and thought if it were painted it would have potential. This was our "it'll do, for now" place. Four and a half years later and I think the time to move is finally coming.
Last week I was zapped by a power point. Not just a little zap but a full shock traveling up and down my arm. This house has given us a lot of shit over the years. Termites, part of the ceiling falling in Master P's room, rusted gutters threatening to collapse into the backyard, plagues of vermin, recurring mould. We've fought through it all, complained, got the real estate agents to fix things, fixed things ourselves and kept the place in a reasonable living condition. But now I'm scared. The shock could have hospitalised me or worse. I saw my GP and had an ECG, all clear and back to work the next day thankfully. It took a week for an electrician to come out and have a look at the dodgy power point. He said there was little he could do as he suspected there was damp in the wiring and it could well happen again. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuucccck.
Tomorrow I ring the tribunal to work out what all of our options are. I wouldn't be surprised if moving is the only real option presented. I don't particularly want to do that (who does?), we love our neighbourhood and the rent sucks around here. If moving is our only option, we will delay it until after our holidays and hope there aren't any further attempts on our lives between now and then!
