Wednesday, 13 December 2017

Moving - where's Betwitched when you need her?

Well shit, it's been more than 2 weeks of silence on here but not in my head, and of course no ceasing of the government abuse out on the fucking road - nah that's really ramped up since the government has decreed an opening grand reveal date and of course the union turds want their chrissie bonus.

The house sale went unconditional and the last 2 weeks seem to have trundled along in slow motion. Travel along the M1 to Brisvegas to view houses has been patience testing, but not as galling as being vetted by children in charge of some very dodgy houses to rent. We did get desperate after the stinky dirty one and the houseos one and the one with literally 100 steps straight up to the front door, Whew, I nearly gave that one a miss half way up. Landlords lied and changed their little minds and agents big noted themselves but we found a place, not quite where we want to be but needs must and all that.  Of course it is not without it's problems because the owners really want to sell it, not rent it, so it turned out that there is no power and no gas and not water meter and no wiring for TV or internet, and they wanted little codicils cos of dog which we just sucked up and signed. It has been a fight, and we are not in there yet, so fingers are firmly crossed.

It's difficult to find a house to rent when you have no references and no job and no interest in providing bank statements, or signing your life away and agreeing to remodel the whole house just because we have a dog, even though the mess left by the family with 3 children just simply beggared my belief.

And then there are the hours - not an exaggeration, I will never get back trying to get quotes from removalists. 

The first guy, with a long pole firmly wedged up his arse, told me that it was the most expensive time to move and we'd be lucky to have him. He was here for 2 hours and twice he launched into insurance sales speak, even though I bluntly - yeh it was as blunt as you might imagine it, told him not to bother. His quote came back and was more than 14 thousand dollars not including insurance! FUCK!

Next bloke was much more friendly and pragmatic and when he sent his quote it was about 5 grand plus a goodly sum to pack shit up.

And finally a fella I have known for a very long time quoted over the phone and I agreed and then later he popped out and had a look and we are all happily on the same page.

So I have been packing and chucking shit out. I am a good and ruthless purger. And I am a quick packer, perhaps because it is not a job I enjoy and so just want to get it over and done with as fast as I can.

I have 4 more days to shove anything we want to keep into a box and even though by far and away most of it is done, it's my experience that it's the last bits that are the most troublesome, so wish me luck.

Of course so close to chrissie means that something has had to give and sadly that is parcels and christmas foodie cheer.

I am truly hoping that the big smoke comes with 24 hour a day shopping so I might pop out at 2 am and perhaps avoid the crowds, cos that's just not something I fancy.

My eyes are drooping down lower than my boobs and my mind is so utterly frazzled that now would be an excellent time to try and sell me a bridge or a comfy looking place to sleep for about a year.

Yep that's what I fancy for chrissie, a full night of uninterrupted sleep. Ahhhh Bliss. Come on Santa do your best huh?

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