I am wound up

Monday 8 June 2015

Hot – 32 degrees with thunder later

Agency boss rang and basically was not counting on doing anything in the situation with the US buyers – thanks a lot Mrs.  She said why didn’t I send an email and let the sellers know and I said I wasn’t happy about doing that and then she said why didn’t I tell the notaries to do something about it and I was thinking ‘you take 50 percent of the fees’, why don’t you do something about it?  So we have lost a week there and the sellers still don’t know.

I then get an email from the US lady, saying would the seller like to give her a 100k mortgage.  Is she mad?  Am I surrounded by crazy people?  The sellers wants to sell his house, on the appointed date, to the people who signed the contract.  He is not a mortgage provider and any approved channel is not going to lend to someone who has no income.  I feel very wound up and go out and hoe the weeds.  At least the bloody things stay hoed for a while, once I have done it.  I hate this job.  I hate the stress.  I am getting the psoriasis back on my elbows.  It is hot and I am not sleeping well.  I am exhausted.

Drive both cars to town 20 kms away to get various things fixed – the windscreen wipers which packed up when OH left to go back to the UK, the wing mirror which was bashed off by someone who didn’t even have the manners to stop and leave their details, the brake pads and discs which have been killed by OH’s fast and furious method of driving.

We set off at different times – I go first because ‘I drive so slow’ and then OH can drive like a maniac, overtake me after gesticulating and shouting messages that I cant hear through the jammed up Kangoo window, and then zoom off into the distance where I find him stuck at the traffic lights three cars ahead of me.  He again disappears off up the road and I arrive when the garage is just opening and he has been standing in the boiling car park for at least ten minutes.  Ridiculous.  For every 100 kilometres we drive, he uses a third of a litre more fuel than me.

Back home and I need a siesta.  The sky is full of thick, yellow phlegmy clouds and the air is close.  I do some ironing and then we go back to get the car.  I take the shorter route which is full of speed bumps and OH takes the road he can go fast on and gets stuck on a roundabout where two cars have managed to drive into one another and the road is full of glass.  I get home 20 minutes before him and discover that the seller of the house PB has written an email and send me a Whats app message, saying what is the news of the US buyers and I think, sod it, he might as well know now so I email him and things go ominously silent.

Walk dog and OH makes wonderful seafood chili risotto.  Hoe the potatoes and find some blight on the La Ratte ones so spray with copper fungicide.  WF used to call it cocker funbeside when he was little.  The memory makes me smile.


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