Land of the Living

I'm back. From outer space. And spending a lot of time on house insurance comparison sites, utilities comparison sites and dining table sites. If my arse sits on another sofa in a showroom it'll think I've retrained as chief arse to sofa person. 

stuff

Girl Crush

This woman is orange. She wears the palest lipstick known to man and uses so much eyeliner her eyes basically disappear. And for all those reasons I should be a bit nonplussed. However, I have a massive girl crush on her.

(And I have watched all the Sewing Bees in a row - and yes it is GBBO but with dresses instead of cakes)

Tattoo

I just caught sight of my 15 year old tattoo. It's on my back and I pretty much never see it. It's held up remarkably well for a small town tattoo artist that put his finger in places they shouldn't have been (my bum). Yay. 

More Houses

I'm beginning to think that I have lost the gene for getting excited about houses in real life. Gone. Today I saw what should have been the perfect house (2 actual full size bedrooms and not a shit hole) but whilst I was excited at the photos I walked around (the very small) living area and came to the conclusion that whilst I like it a lot they could do one for the asking price. So tomorrow will be negotiating £20k off what they're wanting and me saying things like, 

"She moved in 3 years ago and has done nothing to the house and she wants £40k more. I know you said she was a police woman but are you sure she hasn't been smoking crack?"

To try and avoid a melt down I have been looking at glitter dinosaur fascinators on Etsy. I love Etsy. You can basically find every sort of shit on there. Who wouldn't want a purple triceratops wandering around on their head?

House Finding Blues

For the last 6 weeks I have devoted my life to Rightmove and scouring individual estate agent sites in the hope of finding a house that isn't ridiculously overpriced and that would fit a normal couple in as opposed to the Borrowers. 

I don't mind the internet bit so much, it's dealing with the wanky estate agents that gets me down. I have to be pleasant to them for a start which really is not my bag. Then I have to try and juggle a Saturday to ensure that we can see 4 unsuitable properties in a time frame that does not mean there's 2 hours to kill 'on the wrong side of town' so we end up in a caff with some hungover hoodrats commenting how they'd wear MonseiurB's trainers and my handbag. Yes. This did happen. Yes. I did think they were going to mug us. Luckily I had some scalding hot tea. Watch out! I have boiling brown water in a mug and I'm not afraid to use it!

But most of all it's the shit I get off the agents on the Monday when I have to field the 'feedback' calls. I mostly want to say, 

"You're a child who is paid to literally open a door. When I ask questions about planning/previous extensions/GENERAL SHIT YOU SHOULD KNOW ABOUT WHEN YOU'RE TRYING TO SELL A FUCKING HOUSE you give me an answer followed by, "But don't quote me on that". AKA YOU DON'T KNOW THE ANSWER". "

Instead I have to find a polite way of saying, "This house is overpriced for the fact it's 1.5 bedrooms and doesn't have a bath." One who we shall call PhillipTheChild, because his name was Phillip and he was a child, had the audacity to tell me he knew how much I really wanted this house and could I put in a higher offer. The answer was no. I couldn't put in a higher offer. Another told me I was very quiet when looking around the house. I bit my tongue instead of saying, "I'm quiet because it's a total shit hole and I could be in the pub now lamenting the lack of a house instead of standing here. Talking to you."

So the sooner a house is found the better.

But most of all the best time for me to deal with estate agents is when I'm on my period because then I am curt and don't take any bullshit. Curiously, they're nicer to me than when I'm attempting to pretend I'm not a horrible bitch. Hmm. Lesson learned perhaps.