Just when I thought it couldn't get worse...
So, you know, as far as I was concerned we were chugging along nicely towards the moving day we'd agreed on, ie a week on Friday.
Then yesterday, out of the blue, I discover that in fact the vendors wanted two clear weeks notice between exchange and completion - not quite sure why, as they're moving into rented accommodation. And it's non-negotiatable.
I was a mass of seething righteous indignation. They were basically presenting me with this fait accompli: agree to their terms, which means me and cat being out on the streets of London, Dick Whittington style (oh, OK, staying at boyf's riverside apartment, so not far off), with all my stuff in rat-infested storage. OR give up the money I've spent so far, and try to find a new place, at the quietest time of the year in terms of property deals.
I was very much veering towards doing the latter. Silly me, I have always played fair with property, and I hated the idea of being messed about like this. I couldn't even bring myself to blog yesterday, plus I am up against a very acute work deadline which has meant working 8-10 hours a day on a writing project - more than most people can manage. It all felt utterly out of control.
But this morning, the mist cleared. The asking price has been lowered by enough to placate me, in return for 7 days of inconvenience. But next time I talk about moving, PLEASE, please, someone remind me of this. I am already prematurely grey.
Lovely link of the day:
At least judging from this forum, I am not alone.