personality: bitch

I’ve been operating on that ubiquitous maternal advice: if you can’t say anything nice, you shouldn’t say anything at all.  Consequently, I have basically not spoken for the last three and a half days.  I am losing my mind over trivial shit.  I don’t know why everything grates me so, but I nearly punched someone when they validated my condiment choice for me last night.  I AM A BIG GIRL. I CAN MAKE MY OWN DECISION REGARDING WHAT I SLATHER ON FISH AND BE COMFORTABLE WITH IT. 

This is a public forum, and some of you sneaky wee buggers from my real life are reading this.  Hence, I will shut my yap on this topic.  But know this, readers of the Hopeless Blog, I am the most intolerant woman alive.  Basically.

Soooooooo, I can hear the clamours of “House Hunting Update!” from here.  OH ALRIGHT THEN I’ll tell you where we’re at:

I missed an auction on Tuesday.  P was stuck at work, I was stuck on a bus in absolutely horrendous traffic trying to get to the auction room in Royal Oak.  I had textual contact with the agent, who let me know it had been passed in at a higher sum than we were willing to pay (Hah.  I really mean higher than we can afford.)  Apparently, the vendor was approached in the carpark afterwards by a prospective purchaser seeking to cut a deal without the agent.  Good luck with that, I’m pretty sure they’ve got super powers where their interests are concerned.  We’ve basically given up on the northern point of Mt Eden now because Cute House with a Nikau Palm and Dark House But Did You See The Backyard! were both beyond our means, and there isn’t much that is cheaper and nastier in that part of town that doesn’t come with a giant LEAKY HOUSE stamp.

I have a list of about ten trillion more places to visit this weekend.  There is a bit of focus on Arch Hill / Kingsland now, as they’re nice and close to the city, but cheaper because of the stinking motorway dividing the two.  I probably shouldn’t reveal all of this in case you’re all a bunch of frothy-mouthed stalkers, planning a visit to stab me in my sleep or steal my GHDs (which is the worse crime?!!!) but OH WELL TOO LATE NOW. 

'Exciting' weekend plans shall proceed thusly:

 

Friday: work drinks to welcome the new graduates.  I shall escape earlyish and pissedish.

Saturday: loads of washing.  Passive aggressive loo-cleaning.  About ten squillion open homes.  COFFEE.  BOOZE.  Dinner with friends (recent purchasers; no doubt the entire evening's convo will consist of whinges about the Auckland property market.  Fuck me, I’ve really become that girl I hate.)

Sunday: more washing.  Passive aggressive vacuum-cleaning.  A frillion more open homes.  Really should visit Number 2 Nephew.  Resentment over Sunday night, a whole 'nother week's work, etc. 

Crap on a cracker, it is quite difficult to prevent this bloggy business from becoming a public forum whinge-fest.  Well, if you’re me, anyway.