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Of all the things in life that there are to complain about, searching for the perfect flat shouldn't be one of them. However, for me, it is currently the only complaint and source of frustration that I have going for me. In fact, it seems the past several weeks have been about nothing else.

I suppose it has been so hard because I don't want to move and in fact, do not have to move. I am always quick to say that I adore my home, I adore it's location, I adore it's view. I've never really understood the importance of home before until I moved into my current one. At the end of a hard day it welcomes me in and helps me relax. The view of the water and the sound of the waves breaking against our building help to me to sleep or inspire me to write. It has been more than perfect for us.

However, it's on the wrong side of the tracks, or in our case, water. We live on the West Side. Chris works and will be finishing his degree on the East side. The two sides are separated by a beautiful floating bridge with the worst commute in history.

Also, our home is only a one bedroom. It is 650s.f. of heaven, but heaven is feeling a little cramped.

So we have been looking for a two-bedroom on the East Side, in a pretty little lake side artsy community which affords the same views, same beaches and same types of home as where we are now - for a price.

And for a price it seems you can have space and the view. We can't afford that price. We can afford one or the other.

We found a home that we absolutely fell in love with, however. Yesterday, we stepped inside. 1200s.f., 9 foot ceilings, gas fire place, two full bedrooms, washer, dryer, two massive bedrooms, huge windows (one being a large Bay window), large kitchen with tile counter tops and hardwood floors. And it's a condominium, privately owned and individually rented, and it's not that much more than we're currently paying. It's one block from the library, two blocks from the beach and marina, one block from the performing arts centre and next to a lovely park. Perfect sounding isn't it?

It was to us until we got home last night. Driving onto our car park we had a view of the water. This two bedroom did not, it faced a private courtyard that at least had wonderful shrubbery. We laid in bed to talk over the place we had seen and as we laid there, our huge floor to ceiling windows showed us the setting sun and all her glorious colours of pink and blue. We heard the boats heading home and the birds flying overhead.

The view, we cried, how do we give that up? How do we give up seeing the water, seeing nature, seeing the stars every night and the moon reflecting off the water? How do we give up being so perfectly spoiled?

That's the question, isn't it. How do you give up being spoiled?

So we started to squirm. The new flat would afford us space, space we desperately need if I am to continue my writing at home and for Chris to do his studies.

So this morning, we went to look at it again, and it didn't seem so bad. In fact, it seemed rather nice. So we applied. We'll hear back on Wednesday if it's our or not, as another couple applied ahead of us.

I said to Chris that if we aren't accepted, that we give up looking. I can't take spending every weekend driving around, looking at skanky homes or drooling at the posh ones. I can't take the stress of wondering when and where we'll move and if we'll find something like we have now.

We might only have 650s.f. but it's a home, a real home. It has sentiment, after all we got married shortly after moving in, we bought our first furniture ever for this home, and we got our heads out of our asses in this home. It's provided so well for us, it's kept us happy. And that's important to me.

I suppose I don't mind being crammed in here so much when I think of all that.