Monday, 22 November 2010

Stop, start, stutter, spend.

I've never really done the whole flat hunting thing before.

Aside from an Ex Boyfriend who ran, nay, sprinted - screaming for his youth and freedom - at the very suggestion, living with others is never something I've considered while sober. At this age, circumstances change too quickly. Most of my friends who entered into flat / house sharing arrangements with their best mates saw them part ways to live with respective boyfriends within months, and some not altogether amicably. There's also only a very small number of people who I can tolerate living with for more than 12 hours at a time. The Boyfriend is one of them. The others have four legs and a tail.

That being said, I didn't think the process would tug at the old heart strings so much. After viewing the perfect flat last week, I wasn't prepared for the disappointment I felt after being told our offer wasn't accepted; something that I knew was inevitable given the amount of interest and our low budget. Nevertheless, it had taken just 24 hours for us to start imagining ourselves living there, before we were chucked back to square one.

So when the estate agent called back to say that an identical flat in the next block along was also available, it felt like luck was on our side. We went to see it, and there it was again: perfection, right down to the door number - which, as he pointed out excitedly, was the Boyfriend's birthday. Best of all, the estate agent said he'd probably be able to 'twist the landlord's arm' into accepting our - again lower - offer. It was a no brainer.

But before we could seal the deal, there was a blow. The Boyfriend's contract work has begun to stutter - a project that was meant to be signed off hasn't been, his hours are being drastically cut - and suddenly the job certainty he'd had last week isn't looking so concrete.

So at the moment, it looks like all too soon the hunt for non-parental accommodation has been put on hold and our flat, the one I've all but painted in my head, will probably slip away once again. Alas, in the face of adversity there is always a plus side, and that is the new Reiss number I bought with this week's rent.

Well, a girl's gotta mourn somehow.


Ellie said...

And gotta have something to wear while you're mourning. Nice one.

jman said...

Flats are like buses - there's always another one on its way. At least you are not in a situation where you HAVE to find something because desperate people do desperate things. And in the meantime it is always good to start stockpiling things to fill your wardrobe with when you do move!

Please Don't Eat With Your Mouth Open said...

Ellie - You said it, sunshine.

jman - Yeaaah, and it's a good thing we found out his job was up the spout now rather than after the contract had been signed, but, you know...still a pain in the arse.

The Unbearable Banishment said...

It's only a coat. At least you don't spend your grief money on the same stuff fwengebola does.

Anonymous said...

TUB makes a valid point to say the least.

I'm sure there will be other equally great flats that you find once the bf has a little more job security.

Please Don't Eat With Your Mouth Open said...

Unbearable - What, women with willies? :-D

Perp - Yeaaaah I knowwwww but if I can be all selfish and spoiled for a moment




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