Already I’m in love

This PLACE ! – this SUBURB ! – these BIRDS !

I can say with certainty that I have not been so happy since Chic died. He’d be tickled pink.   ðŸ™‚

The unit is ancient as were its last tenants; and the owner had, I strongly suspect, said to the agent, “Naah – fuck it ! No renos, no upgrades: let’s put it on the market as is and see if some nutter will rent it.”

This nutter came along with one cataract done and one not – hence bloody poor vision – and said “Yep, I’d like to rent it, please …” Signed the lease and all and was given the agent’s condition report; and then, with the other cataract done, went in to check that. Wow ! – did I lay it on the line or what ?! Long story short: emailed it back in with my own extensive annotations, and the owner would’ve said “SHIT. We’ve got a real strop, here. Oh well, it was worth a try …” and the agent started on the long list of things to be replaced.

First came the new stove. Then came the bloke to measure for new carpet and new vinyl on the hard floors. Then came a call from the handyman to make an appointment … you get the picture.

I’m so HAPPY. I’m back in St Albans Park, which turns out to be the suburb of my heart and comes with its own birds — wattle birds, magpies, magpie larks and plovers, and all with their own glorious calls.

And although my beloved Lui has just been diagnosed with diabetes 2, I’ve even risen above panic and come to terms with injecting him twice a day.

I’m a new old fart.