rainy days and mondays

Another near miss, boys and girls.  We were closer this time though.  It transpired that SNWACK house had a host of building issues.  Accordingly, we dropped our bidding limit and predicted it would sell for the top end of our limit.  Whaddaya know, it did.  P briefly considered getting the bid in at our upper limit before one of the other interested parties placed it on the table, but I think we’re both glad he didn’t, given the breadth of the issues with the property (sleep out with no building consent and too low a ceiling, shoddy foundations etc, together with a host of other structural/non-structural issues.)  Back to the drawing board, at least this time with a little bit of a better sense of the market, I guess.  

That, being the above, was a boring paragraph.  Word of warning: it’s not going to get any better. 

Oh god you guys.  I’m a misery guts at the moment.  I’m experiencing some kind of hormonal clusterfuck, I’ve seen my mum (saying goodbye to her ALWAYS makes me emotional no matter the circumstances, for reasons I am unable to pinpoint), I’m overtired and I spent yesterday afternoon cleaning clumps of someone else’s shit out from under the rim of the toilet.  FUCK ME.  (Just deleted rant re houseguests.  I’m sure you can extemporise.) 

You better add to the catalogue of woe my concerns about my hair.  It’s gone a heinous dishwater brown and sobsobsob I miss blonde already, even bleached out frizzy nasty blonde.  DON’T DO IT, is my advice.  JC on a piece of toast, I’m a whinging narcissist with no sense of perspective and TERRIBLE hair.  

Oh yes, the visit to the farm was lovely.  Hung out with a horse, spent an hour or two pulling fleabane, ate steak, drank wine.  V civilised for the provinces, I must say.  Given all of that, my whinge seems even more ridiculous, but there it is.