catch28

So last saturday I went house hunting, and found this absolutely beautiful one bedroom art deco apartment in peterham. It was stunning. Which found me on sunday running around getting my shit together to put in an application on the place. Which found me at work at 8am on monday morning, hurridly scanning things onto computer, because they don’t accept faxed applications! So, I put together this pretty sweet email, attached all my documents in pdf format, and sent it off to the real estate agent, hoping they’d pick me.

I loved this place, it was so good I actually dreamt about living there every night from saturday when i first saw it, through til last night. I even found myself fantasizing about men doing naughty things to me in the apartment, when I was having special me time. And yes, it was hotter cuz it was in that apartment. So anyway, I get to today, and I get a call from the real estate agent. Yep, you guessed it, I didn’t get the apartment.

but… appearently they loved my application, and Sylvia, the property manager, told Amy, the real estate peon, to make sure she called me because there is another apartment in the building coming up in two weeks, and they wanted to keep my application in perference for that apartment, so if I liked it I wouldn’t have to put in a new application.

Now, is it just me, or is that just a little weird? I had no idea I had somehow made the transition from scungey student renter to professional urban renter. Have I crossed that mythical line where real estate agents no longer treat me like something they scraped off the bottom of their shoe, and was now a preferred reliable tenent? Can that even happen in Sydney? Its freaking me out.