Guest Post: 7 Reasons Not To Move House
Returning to the 7 Reasons sofa for his second stint as a guest poster is student and Muse fanatic Rob. A. Foot. When he’s not loading the back of removal vans he can be found playing his saxophone/piano/harp/french horn/penny whistle (all at the same time) on his blog, There Is Music In The Breakdown.
1. Tidying. A horrible piece of collateral that comes with moving. First of all, you have to tidy up the clutter that has gathered around the house since the day you moved in. No matter how tidy you think you’ve kept the house, there’s always more. Looked behind the sideboard? The plant pot? Under the sofa? There’ll be more behind the desk, all those little things that have been knocked off over the years. Good luck picking up all of that rubbish.
2. Estate Agents. Widely regarded as the slippery eel career, a nasty necessity of the moving business. First of all you have to show a number of them around your house, just so you can see how much money they think that they can get out of the poor sod who has to buy your house. Then you hand over a key to them. The equivalent of handing the key to heaven to Lucifer, but with slighty less ramifications to all humanity.
3. Having people look round your house*. So, you’ve tidied your house, chosen the most ambitious estate agent, now you just have to do one little thing. Find someone who actually wants to buy it. Hmm. That means having people look round. Which means polishing every visible surface until you can see the inevitable fly in the air, hovering around the house and not wanting to leave. Then you leave the house in the hope that the estate agent doesn’t scare off any potential buyers, and that the fly hasn’t started breeding.
4. The post-visit call from the estate agent. So, did the people like it? Or did they think that the garden wasn’t big enough for the horses that they planned to get? Well, they’re certainly not going to tell you their concerns to your face, they aren’t going to be that impolite. So, you wait for the call from the estate agent to hear what the damage is, and how little they want to move into your house. So you then repeat steps 3 and 4 until, mercifully, someone decides that they want to buy the house. Then you get more problems for your trouble.
5. Finding a house. So, you’ve finally managed to sell your house. But, it has taken so long, you’ve lost the original ambition and optimism that arrive with putting the house on the market, when you scouted around for suitable houses. All the houses that looked to be perfect were sold months ago, so you now have to find something that will always pale to that ideal house which you had found. It now becomes a slog as you look round house after house, all with their flaws. Until you give up and go for the least bad house.
6. Moving Day. I consider myself a veteran of moving days. Having experienced 7 of these in the 17 years of my life, I’m getting bored of them, to say the least. First, you have to make sure that you have packed everything away in the correct boxes and that they’re sealed up and marked correctly. Then, check that you haven’t left something important and expensive, but small, say, a camera or gold plated iPod, lying in a corner somewhere, waiting to be left behind and found by the next family to live in what was your house. Then you have the fun moment of arriving at the new house and checking through every box to make sure that the removal men haven’t broken anything valuable, say, some expensive china crockery given to your parents as a wedding gift 20 years ago. Then you get to unpack. Fun.
*7. The surprise visit. The worst nightmare of any prospective homeseller. The people who “happened to be in the area” with the estate agent decide, on a whim, to have a look round your house. You’re lucky if you get a phone call half an hour before they arrive. So, you have a mad panic to make the house presentable, which, inevitably, doesn’t help much. So you edge around the house while they look round, trying to avoid confrontation, where they may ask what sort of fire is in the hearth, when it is clearly an open fire. This is where a buyer bunker would come in handy. You’d stick it in the bottom of the garden, underground. You could kit it out with all that you need, a digital radio so you can listen to Test Match Special and a packet of Hobnobs.