If the wind changes, your face will stay like that
August 15, 2006
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I’m scowling because I’m furious. I’m absolutely livid. The vendor’s solicitor, henceforth to be referred to as the "shower o’ bastards", has apparently decided that the one piece of paper we’re waiting for, the one teeny weeny piece of information, those little ticks in boxes, the formal formality, will require £65. I mean, hey, they’ve only had the request for the damn thing for four weeks, so eight working days before the end of the shower o’ bastards client’s maternity leave seems like the perfect time to ask for the payment they must have known was needed!
So my solicitor can’t give me a completion date until we get this precious piece of paper, which means I can’t book a removal company. And what’s happening soon? Oh yeah, August Bank Holiday! That annual festival of rain. But this year, for me, August Bank Holiday means that all the removal companies are booked solid because of the loss of one working day. If I don’t make a booking like, now, I won’t get to move next week. And as we’ve seen, hahaha, because of the lack of that little piece of paper I don’t have a date for my move! So I now have to move my holiday from work back at least a week, which cuts by half the amount of time I get to do this massive project when I get back. It’s like that dumb rhyme, what is it? For the want of a nail the kingdom was lost? For the want of landlord queries, Bagelmouse’s sanity was lost.
Doesn’t scan quite so well.
Ugh, I hate this! It’s all been going so well so far, and now the shower o’ bastards are cocking it up and there’s nothing I can do. Trying to plan without anything to pin that plan to is like trying to nail jelly to the ceiling. God, I hate not being in control of my own fate.