Shit no one tells you about buying a home & other adult problems


Frack! I bought a home. This is very good news, so I hear. Well, it is. Really. As a young African, carving my way through this brave new world trying to make my mark, longterm investments like property is one way to assert my adulthood. That and it’s one way of getting my dad to stop asking me when I am getting married. So I get to grow up, like watching my investment appreciate.

There is a certain level of empowerment that comes with owning property or living alone and having to figure out life’s great mysteries. It is wonderful, chaotic and fun. But, fuck me! it is hard.

There are things they don’t tell you about this growing up thing. I think there is a societal consensus to never tell young people what is waiting for them on the other side of growing up. There is probably a collective cackle when someone discovers these previously unknown facts of life. The realization that dawns a poor unsuspecting young person when they discover the cost of bread and have to pay for it with their own money. That terrifying choice they will have to make between toilet paper and food, the terror of saying no to wine because gotta have heat. Yup, all the grown ups giggle and point in hysterics as we flail about trying to make sense of our new reality looking for a life raft. The withholding of this information is not only morally reckless, it is dangerous.

As fellow flailer, I am here to give you some of my insights on the heels of my recent home purchase. Shit is hard dudes, that is for truth. So pay attention marshmallows.

Shit is expensive, seriously! No you cannot have another handbag just to match that one top you only wear once in a blue moon! You got bills to pay.
Electricity is a nightmare. Watch what you use, and when possible get a prepaid meter.
Groceries don’t come cheap, buy the essentials first before you decide on luxuries. Yes chocolate is a luxury, but not wine ( well sorta) — you will need it to cope.

Levies, are the worst. This is a fee you pay for the upkeep of the outside of your home if you live in a sectional unit and it is sizable amount.
Special levies are even more dangerous. These are for when you body corporate decides to paint or do something you might not give a shit about.
Then there are rates — this is to the city for taking care of things, ahh the beautiful world of tax. Shot city dudes for taking care nothing but whatever take my money.
When you buy property expect to pay for everything. Is like going on a date that turns into a weekend away and being expected to pay for everything just because you said the words: “should we grab coffee later?”. You pay your lawyer’s fees, the seller’s lawyer fees and if the bank had their way some other random costs that would make no sense. These fees will be in the tens of thousands. In some cases people have to take out loans on top of their mortgage just to be able to cover these fees. Also some of these attorneys that you will deal with during this process are the literal worst. Yeah, bond attorneys I am looking at you.
You inherit all the problems that come with the property so be sure to find out if there are any before you sign on that dotted line.
Upkeep! Now you own the place, someone has to take care of it and that someone is you. Electrical problem? That’s you boo. What? the door is broken, babe get that sorted.

No more swipe swipe. Growing up means getting very intimate with the concept of a budget and learning to really stick to it. That’s your bae from now on.

How to be a grown up 101 — the ‘DYI’ edition

I should have known my entire universe was going to come crashing down the minute I had to insert the L4 lever into B3. There was no L4, I looked in every single packet that came with my brand new plasma stand, every single one. And so, after 63 minutes of pure agony and frustration I stared at my unfinished work in defeat, I would never find L4 and my plasma stand will remain unassembled.

This is what happens when you grow up, the bright lights of childhood dim with resentment of playgrounds lost, the mischief of youth tries to groan on like a sluggish predator given up on the chase. Schedules become the norm, budgets become exciting activities and old lady pants are not just a thing but a cherished calendar item.

Welcome to the reality of the late 20-something.

My theory of what happens to people in their late 20s comes from years of watching sitcoms that made your 20s when things finally made sense and life became manageable — this is a big fat lie as we have already established. The reality on the other hand shows dramatically different lifestyles and world views from what we have been led to believe. As the assault of being a grown up looms, your inner child suffers and good sense is compressed to sense right now. In the quest to make sense of this growing up thing, this adulthood you find yourself trapped in something comes at the mercy of cruel and malignant being dancing at your every failure. Growing up is not easy they tell me, you have to work hard at life. Why, is what I want to know. What did I ever do to life that I have to keep working hard at it? Who is keeping score? Nobody knows.

The main curse of the 20-somethings is of course the Gwyneth Paltrows of this world, the women in their 20s who as one Buzzfeed writer described seem to have this life thing “sufficiently figured out as to be both enviable and mundane”. You often wonder who these women are, how on earth did they manage to do it and you can’t. Where on God’s green earth did they find the L4 lever that goes into B3 effortlessly, when you searched tirelessly and couldn’t. Who are these women, who are these people? These people that make you feel that while the rest of the works is winning at DIY you are failing at DYI because the instructions are all mixed up for you.

Incase you missed it: I am struggling a bit with this being a 20-something thing and giving adulthood a go. I am pretty sure I have everyone fooled and I am faking adulthood well, so I think. If things I read, watch and listen to are anything to go by, all you need is six things to be good at adulthood.

  • learning to make grown up decision
  • looking like you have it figured out
  • living an enviable lifestyle
  • understanding what is actually happening in the world
  • having a definite sense of style
  • finding yourself and knowing who you are

If all these things are indeed correct then I have failed with a soul-crushing grade of D- or more accurately an F, I am being generous. Somewhere along faking adulthood I seemed to have boxed myself into a corner that says I must be adult at all cost. No room for real play. Going out drinking does not count, if we are being honest that’s the worst inheritance of adulthood. Convincing ourselves it is okay to behave in an ill-mannered way, act with little dignity that even children are mortified and cause our bodies to reject everything it has ingested and possibly harm others because we think we are so invincible that drinking and driving is a contest — no not fun. No, I mean actual fun and play coupled with genuine laughter.

Though I easily allow myself to get lost in an existential crisis over why DIY instructions don’t add up. The ridiculousness of a pinch of something to a recipe (what is a pinch? Or a dash? Are these quantifiable measurements? Really?!?), I think it is safe to say, I am a grown up in my own way.

Everything in my home may not match or be fully assembled, I may still think the purpose of making money is to spend as quick as you can, I have yet to poison myself or set the house of fire. Adult supervision not needed. I feel there is a fine line between playing adult and eventually becoming one.

‘Damn You Instructions’