Moving house has always sucked and always will do. You take risks, you takes your chances. I guess I have always had a relatively easy ride. I have sold houses at profit and I have bought houses and not had them fall through.
The market is weird at the moment. On the one hand, it is low enough that I can afford to buy in a lovely village that I never dreamed I would live in until I was at least 40. Now I have found somewhere, I have to sell my own house. I am hoping I will find someone who is just like me, someone who's never dreamed they could afford a Woot Bass. That person hasn't yet noticed that I am here, selling, my house at less than its market value. They've had two feckin' days.
I want to move! I want to move now so I can spend a bit of time working on my new house, so I can travel HOME every weekend - not spend my time holed up in this dump of a flat. The toilet broke last night. Two feckin' months to go and the toilet breaks. Feck feckity feck feck.
I think I might go to mum and dad's again this weekend. Not to look at any houses but to trawl up and down some hills on my bike... and on foot. I am tempted to kick my tenant out and start travelling back to Woot Bass but where would that get me? A stash of cash worse off every week, that's where that'd get me.
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