No cats scratching and mewling at the bedroom door, no dogs barking, no snoring, it’s blissfully quiet.
Ok, I’m knackered. Sat here all bleary eyed at 6.50 on a Sunday morning having been driven out of my bed by all of the above but hey ho, I’m reaping the benefits now. Think positive, as they say. Whoever ‘They’ are, the dozy sods. Tell ‘them’ to get up at 6.50 on a Sunday morning and think positive.
I need a loooooong, undisturbed lie in – about 12 hours should do it. Ha! In my dreams – f only I could get any.
So. Where have I been all week, then? Running round like a headless hen, that’s where.
I had the bright idea of ‘staging’ my living room ready for the hoardes of views who were coming to look at the house – and all put in a bid so we had a bidding war and it sold for MORE than the asking price – again, in my dreams. My plan was, a new rug, a few new cushions and new curtains to give the place a bright and fresh new look ready for our new suite coming on Thursday.
The new curtains didn’t fit on the old curtain poles so that involved more expense and trauma having to replace all of them.’Never mind’, I stupidly thought, ‘when we move we can take these lovely old (and expensive poles with us.’ That is until Boofuls left one propped up on a ledge, I brushed past it, it fell off and broke the finial. Blooming marvelous! Not feeling the love at this point. Not only that but I have to turn up one pair as the window, the big one, obviously, is an odd size. That’d be ok but my sewing machine just wants to eat them so I’ve given up with that and will have to do them by hand. I hate sewing!
Never mind, my new suite will be here on Thursday.
*Ring ring* “Is that Mrs Boofuls? There’s a delay on your new suite, it’s not coming for another week. Is that ok?”
No it fecking well isn’t ok. That’s all that’s been keeping me sane this week. Damn you Harvey’s the furniture store. I’ve been waiting since 2nd january for that suite and yet here you are telling me I have to wait even longer. I’m never watching Corrie again, you bar stewards! There! That showed you, didn’t it?
The estate agent sent the nice, glossy brochure they’ve put together, at a cost to us of £200 (excuse me but isn’t that what we pay the 1.5% for) to sell our house. It looks really good, I’d buy it.
I settled down for a good read of the description.
Umm. When did we change the name of the house?
I wonder when we got the downstairs toilet installed? I don’t remember seeing that.
Kitchen diner? Really? Since when? How? Where?
Are you sure these details are for my house?