
In my last story, I left you with a promise, or perhaps a tease. I was going to Geelong to look at a villa in an independent-living village, with no idea whether I would come home excited, disappointed or simply satisfied that I had followed my curiosity.
I wasn’t announcing another move. I wasn’t even sure there would be one. I was going to look. After all these years, I have learned that intuition deserves my attention, but it does not get to make major financial decisions without being questioned first.
So I went to Geelong.
It was never just about a house
I stayed with my dear brother-in-law and visited my sister in residential care. She has Alzheimer’s, and I know where this road is heading. Being closer to her at this stage of her life is one of the strongest reasons Geelong has been calling to me.
But it isn’t the only reason. Our extended family is there. We would stay on the East Coast and stay close to our eldest son. Chris and I could keep much of the life we have built rather than uprooting ourselves and returning to Western Australia.
Three years ago, we actually built a house in Western Australia intending to return. Then came that extraordinary right-hand turn: we sold it instead. At the time, it felt like another strange detour. Now I am beginning to see just how fortunate that detour may have been.
The villa I went to see…and the one I didn’t
Janine, the managing agent, had arranged for me to inspect a three-bedroom, two-bathroom villa with a single garage. The experienced agent I expected to meet was ill that day, so Henry greeted me instead.
Henry was new. Very new. It was his second day on the job. I had come to see one particular villa, but Henry happened to know of another one he thought I should see. Had the agent I was supposed to meet been there that day, I don’t know whether I would ever have seen it.
And then there was 24 Magnolia Drive
It had three bedrooms, two bathrooms and a garage. It occupied a corner position, with a better outlook and a better garden. It was brand new, with the same elegant modern fittings I had admired in the other villa: the Italian tiling, the modern kitchen, and the opportunity to choose our flooring, blinds and curtains.
It was also $50,000 less.
That difference matters. Based on my current calculations, we can sell our existing property and move into this villa without touching our investment portfolio. Fifty thousand dollars would remain where it was, quietly doing its job instead of disappearing into bricks and tiles.
Was this intuition? Synchronicity? Good luck?
Perhaps all three. But I still wasn’t signing anything.
Then came the fine print
Another incentive: $20,000 towards removal costs. Wonderful, until I read the conditions. To qualify, we needed to sell our existing home by 31 January. It was already September. Hmm. That was asking rather a lot.
My nephew Mark, who has also been my business mentor, offered one beautifully simple piece of advice: Negotiate. So I did. I asked for more time. I didn’t get the full year I wanted, but I did get another three months, with the option of requesting further three-month extensions if necessary.
Not everything fell into place. I helped some of it into place. The businesswoman who once negotiated premises and built a college has not entirely retired; apparently she was only resting.
I was also told there will be a $1,000 dining voucher involved if an existing resident introduces us. Apparently my brother-in-law will qualify too. At this rate, the two of us could be lunching very nicely for quite some time.
A nudge is not a contract
Despite the appealing coincidences, I have not lost my head. I am researching the village, checking the contract and asking questions, probably more questions than anyone there expected one woman to ask. Practicalities, financial considerations, and conditions must satisfy me before I commit Chris and myself to such an important decision.
Intuition brought me to the possibility. Research must tell me whether the possibility makes sense.
The rather large piece still missing
Our present home still has to sell, and sell well. I have reason to feel hopeful. We live in an exclusive estate where prospective buyers sometimes approach owners directly, and I have a long relationship with Eden, the agent who has handled our investments.
Our neighbours, George and Hannah, were selling recently, and I thought the amount they were considering accepting was too low. So I interfered. Just a little. I told Eden what I thought. It was their last hurrah too, and I wanted them to have the best possible result.
Two weeks later, Eden texted me. The final figure was $70,000 more than the amount George and Hannah had originally been prepared to accept. I never confessed that I had anything to do with it. Now it may be my turn to put Eden to the test.
Where things stand now
24 Magnolia Drive is there, and I love it. The figures appear to work. My sister and extended family would be nearby. We could remain on the East Coast. I have negotiated some breathing room, and the prospects for our present home look encouraging.
But I haven’t signed yet. That matters. I am still asking questions, still researching, and still listening.
Perhaps Geelong is teaching me that trusting intuition doesn’t mean surrendering common sense. The nudge may tell us which door to open, but before we walk through it, we still need to check what is on the other side.
So I am still listening to my intuition.
But this time, I have my calculator in the other hand.
—
This post was previously published on Infinite Impulse.
***
You may also like these posts on The Good Men Project:
White Fragility: Talking to White People About Racism |
Escape the “Act Like a Man” Box |
The Lack of Gentle Platonic Touch in Men’s Lives is a Killer |
![]() |
If you believe in the work we are doing here at The Good Men Project, please join us as a Premium Member today.
All Premium Members get to view The Good Men Project with NO ADS.
Need more info? A complete list of benefits is here.
Photo credit: iStock
White Fragility: Talking to White People About Racism
Escape the “Act Like a Man” Box
The Lack of Gentle Platonic Touch in Men’s Lives is a Killer

