Yann, the furry dudes and I have been in Victoria for a week now. We spent our first five nights at an Airbnb for the low, low price of $350. Now, we’re staying with Kristina until we find the palace of our dreams or her family gets tired of us, whichever comes first. We have a strong preference for the first scenario.
Before moving to Victoria, we were aware that it would be a challenge finding a home, but we didn’t expect it to be an almost-fictitious endeavour. Initially, our budget was set at $1400 a month or less, but we’ve now increased this to $1600. Considering how we were splitting $680/mo in Montréal, this is a massive jump.
That cats will need to give up their freewheeling lifestyles and get jobs. Enfoiré would make an excellent plus-sized model, while Bubble has the potential to become a pro shadow boxer.
All jokes aside, our first week in Victoria has been gloomy in spite of the mostly sunny weather. Every day, Yann and I sift through the rentals section of Craigslist and UsedVictoria for anything within a 15km radius–and not in the ocean–of where we work. So far, we’ve contacted over 20 places and have only been invited to two viewings. Of the two places we’ve seen, we put in an application for both.
My dad and his wife do not understand how hard it’s been, nor do my grandparents. Dad’s wife suggested that we look for places in the suburbs as she thinks it’s more affordable than the city. In actuality, there are fewer options in the suburbs, and they’re usually larger rather than cheaper.
My grandparents had no idea we are required to sign a one-year lease and figured we could easily find something temporary until something better comes along.
What are we doing wrong? We both have jobs that pay well over the minimum wage. We both have excellent credit and glowing references. Even when we finally find a place to call home, we’re looking at paying at least $1300 a month on rent alone. How, then, are we supposed to save up to buy a home?
My parents bought their first home when Dad was 30 and Mom, 27. There were always at least two cars in our driveway. Our household had a two-cat minimum. All this happened before Dad claimed the family business!
I’m 35 and apparently, I don’t even deserve pets if I want to have a private place to shit and sleep. We millennials sure are an entitled bunch, aren’t we?
*48 hours later*
I considered scrapping the above jumble of angsty text, but I decided against hiding my struggles in favour of flaunting my triumph. I can do both.
WE GOT A PLACE!
Yann received a call from a property management company while he was on his way to a viewing appointment. I was on my way to work. As soon as Yann got off the phone, he texted me the happy news. My eyes started watering, and it wasn’t because of all the pollen. We’re officially residents of The Garden City.
We’re going to have far less spending money, but we’ll only need to walk five minutes to dip our toes in the ocean. We can get on our bikes and go for a lovely ride, rather than having to drive out of the city as we did in Montréal. We’re essentially paying extra for the lifestyle we had been longing for in Montréal.
Let’s see how long I last here this time around.