dragoon811 (
dragoon811) wrote2015-11-02 10:54 pm
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More Whinging and Update
My time is completely eaten by house showings.
It's several hours because I drive the hubby 45 minutes to work, then either I have to drive 45 minutes home (then go out AGAIN) or spend hours killing time until the showing ends to drive 45 minutes home. Then drive another 45 minutes to go get him...then 45 minutes back.
It sucks. I spend hours hand-writing (I don't have a laptop that's feasible for taking out and about), and I spend hours sitting in the mall food court or in Starbuck's.
For that matter, there's the hours of cleaning every goddamn time.
There's the house-hunting for myself, then realising we can't fucking afford a home that's not, well, SHIT.
So now we're apartment hunting. Desperately.
To top it all off, we've had an offer.
Unfortunately, we won't find out until a week from Wednesday if we'll be selling/getting paid.
However...if this offer DOES go through, our move out date is December 1st.
Also, both Bobby and I are sick. And he hurt his ankle at work yesterday.
Please. Kill me now. Or come over and help me. Or something because I'm more or less sitting in a corner and sobbing.
It's several hours because I drive the hubby 45 minutes to work, then either I have to drive 45 minutes home (then go out AGAIN) or spend hours killing time until the showing ends to drive 45 minutes home. Then drive another 45 minutes to go get him...then 45 minutes back.
It sucks. I spend hours hand-writing (I don't have a laptop that's feasible for taking out and about), and I spend hours sitting in the mall food court or in Starbuck's.
For that matter, there's the hours of cleaning every goddamn time.
There's the house-hunting for myself, then realising we can't fucking afford a home that's not, well, SHIT.
So now we're apartment hunting. Desperately.
To top it all off, we've had an offer.
Unfortunately, we won't find out until a week from Wednesday if we'll be selling/getting paid.
However...if this offer DOES go through, our move out date is December 1st.
Also, both Bobby and I are sick. And he hurt his ankle at work yesterday.
Please. Kill me now. Or come over and help me. Or something because I'm more or less sitting in a corner and sobbing.