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| Photo by Aleksandr Ledogorov on Unsplash |
All in one go, I am stupidly excited and also questioning the sanity of my past self. G and I are squeezing so many milestones into such a short space of time, that I’m wondering why one of us didn’t say a few months ago ‘er, do you reckon that could be a bit… busy?’
But we didn’t.
So here we are.
Last week, we made an offer on a house. An offer that was accepted. We haggled with the vendors whilst they were climbing Ben Nevis – a detail I really rather love – and the estate agent secured us a deal. G text me whilst I was sat in a café, attempting to write and find some calm after a hectic couple of weeks. I chucked my laptop in my bag, poorly wrapped my flapjack in a napkin, threw calm out the window and ran through town leaving a trail of oats behind me.
I am now trying to get my head around mortgages and how much shit we seem to have to pack up and the cost of kitchens and how many pink cushions is acceptable in one house?!
(Answer: one can never have too many pink cushions. G disagrees.)
Oh yes, and we are still about to get married. And go on the trip of a lifetime. Right now, I have no idea when I will next be able to sit down without any plans or commitments. April 2020?
In the space of 48 hours, we had a mortgage advisor appointment, a registry office planning meeting, ceremony venue planning meeting, dress fitting and third house viewing, all whilst haggling over the house price with the vendors via the estate agent and still going to work.
This was all after just getting back from a trip away; so there was no time to unpack, put a wash on or indeed, have any semblance of tidiness around our tiny flat. I ran out of clean underwear for crying out loud.
Sunday morning was emergency tidy-washup-laundry-bins out time and I have a feeling that most life admin is going to take place during emergency snatched hours like that over the next few months. Either that or I buy more pants.
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