So I've been waiting in all afternoon in the freezing cold, wearing x2 jumpers waiting for the gas man to arrive and at 19.14, he's still not here.
When does it become OK to start crying tears of despair?
I am also due off my month of not boozing this weekend. I start tonight as soon as the gas man cometh (don't want to be pissed when he gets here, would be like a dreadful porno "oh, Dave, although you can tell I'M really cold, the temperature doesn't seem to affect you at all" - or am I being kind to the script writers there?)
We can shower at the gym during the weekend, so it's not the end of the world, but it's so mo fo cold, man.
Have been tweeting mad today. How much am I loving twitter? a lot that much, am going to find all my pals so we never really talk to each other ever again! horrah!
The house drama continues, BTW. After an amazing (in the true sense of the word - fantastical) offer of £1 less than asking that fell through in 2 days (the couple claimed they split up - BLATant liars), I'm trying to push through an offer of £10k less than asking which is still ace. However hit a snag in the fact the buyers surveyor has valued the property at a stonking £25k less than the offer was made for.
Obv the buyers (well I say buyer) mortgage company are refusing to give him a mortgage for the amount he's offered on the flat, so the estate agents are currently giving me a load of guff about how they're "working hard" to move this forward. Whatever. It's all reasonably stressful and depressing. EOP monday is my cut off point to freak out and demand the nonsense to stop in a hysterical voice and get them to just find tenents to rent the bugger too.
Oh roll on living in someone elses flat, not caring about the vin rogue on the carpet and over loading the washing machine.