I think Julia and I are going to live in New South Wales. Obviously we’re a long way from buying our dream house, given that we’re stranded in the bush, but I think it’s the right choice for our marriage. Let’s be honest, it hasn’t exactly gotten off to the best start, with a quick and easy wedding in the middle of an abandoned burger restaurant performed by Frier Laura. The last thing we need is to go back to Melbourne and announce it to our crazy families.
I have plenty of money in my account, courtesy of my family worrying about my disappearance. It’s a shame that I won’t be able to use my family’s trusted property conveyancing lawyers in Melbourne, but we’ll make do. We’ll start a new life together in Sydney, which means our families will never know about our union. Yes, they’ll be paranoid that Julia perished in the outback and I joined some anime fan cult or something, but they should have thought of that before starting a six-generation family feud.
How did this feud start? That’s a good question. It actually started with a debate about property. My four-times-great-grandfather, George Romero, was actually supposed to marry Julia’s four-times-great-grandmother, Elizabeth Catapult. They wanted to buy a house before the wedding, but after an argument over whose name would go first on the title transfer, they decided that the wedding was off and their families would forever be enemies. It’s pretty stupid if you ask me.
Julia and I won’t have that problem, because my name is obviously going on the title transfer first. It’s my money that will be paying for it, after all. Julia will understand that things have to be this way if there’s going to be any semblance of normalcy in our lives going forward. She wants to start a business that sells sleeping potions, and I’m totally fine for her name to go first on all the legal documents involved with that. But let’s be honest, this house will be more mine than hers, even if it is just a little bit, so my name has to go first.