Home is Where the Heart Is
I may have mentioned a cafrillion times that I’m trying to sell my house and for those of you that have gone through that process before, I’m sure you will be able to feel my pain.
The pain being a massive metaphorical one in my arse. So to speak.
From having to constantly tidy up and prepare for viewings, to potential buyers not being able to see past some dodgy artexed ceilings, to having to reduce the price time and time again because I want a quick sale and no bugger will buy it.
The whole process is exhausting and now I know why I have only ever done this once before in my lifetime.
I am constantly daydreaming about my next house. Surround sound in every room. Wifi that works properly. A shower that actually works and doesn’t just dribble out. (Just dribbling out is no good for anyone.) A carpet that has no dubious stains on it. Pristine walls.
But then I remember that I live in the real world, with children (grubby boys at that,) a full time job that means I can’t (nor would I) spend all day cleaning and no money for a cleaner anymore (*wails.*)
Today’s viewing was at 7.45am. THAT’S how much I want to sell the house. Running around like a mental at 7am tidying up is not cool. An investor and his wife viewed and, as nice as they were, it’s really hard to hear people point out all your house’s flaws. I’ve lived in this house for 22 years – I take it personally. They could have waited until they left before they slagged it off. All part of the game I suppose so that they can nab a bargain. Heartless bastards
Still, this is all within my master plan. Sell the house. Rent first ever house on own. Take over the world.
And I have to remember, that home is where the heart is. Happiness, my boys, security and a fridge full of beer is all I need really.
Sponsored post – bills to pay.