Please try not to panic. I know the temptation here, is to run from whatever room you're currently in, screaming, and shave your head.
But I promise, it's going to be okay.
If I flex my surprisingly capable mathematical skills, I can work out that the average Nanowrimo-er should have written 31,666 words by the end of today. I'm not far off - I've written 0.
I can still totes do it.
As per the infinite words of George Micheal - You gotta have faith. Yeah, you gotta have faith.
So have some fucking faith.
On my bus, there's a mystery farter.
Seriously, at least two mornings a week, the farter lets a big one go on the top deck, and clears it. I'm not kidding. About thirty of us flee our seats and wait on the stairs, sometimes 2 or 3 stops before our own stop. It's horrendous. It's a slap to the face.
I'm going to start making a note of the people around me every morning. By process of elimination I can source the guilty party. Then I will slap them with a rotten egg and declare, 'There, now we're even.'.
I've been doing a lot of house hunting of late.
Did you know that what looks like a considerable about of damp, is just the wallpaper paste innocently coming through, which is perfectly normal? No, neither did I.
Or, that if you invite someone to view a flat, but don't have a key, they won't be able to view it?
Or even, that you can wait thirty minutes before finding out the estate agent's been in a 'car accident'.
I feel pretty shitty about this last one, because she actually was.
Or at least, they went into a lot of detail to secure the story, and I'd hate to believe that 'The airbag broke her jaw.' was a concoction between three of the lying bastards over coffee.
See, I'm trying to be a better person. It's just that I find everyone suspiciously fraudulent. Maybe it's because I make stuff up all the time. Yes, that could indeed be it.
I mean, isn't it just a teensy big convenient, that on the way to get us, a car smacked her bitch up?
What I'm trying to say is, Get Well Soon.
People in this renting game want to charge you tons of money for doing sweet FA. If you ask them how the signing fees break down they're like:
'Sure, okay, so £50 for me to talk to you in this oh so patronising tone, £10 for me to grab a 'Bucks' (that's obvs Starbucks to the lamen), and muffin on the way back, £100 to loan you my pen, and I don't know, let's say another £30 because I'm a wanker.'
So, basically, we've put an offer in that's like, half the rent, a point blank refusal to pay the fees, and the request for a free bed.
I'll let you know how that pans out.
Did you know Arthritis, is not pronounced Arthur-itus? I didn't.