Our life has narrowed down to a very thin set of priorities now, as we try to wrangle a move prior to October with a desperate earnestness that no other party involved seems to share.
Everything you think will take an hour or two, takes a day. Everything you think will take a day, takes several days. People we pay money to seem in no rush to return calls or reply to emails. People whose job it is to interact with clients don’t seem to understand that clients might not know what they know, and that not knowing is itself sufficient to generate stress, even if what were to become known was not in itself stressful….
Despite their house languishing on the market for some five or six months, and despite their stated impatience at not selling, the vendors never thought it important to get all the paperwork together. And so there’s a 28-year-old extension that might not be built to buildings regulations—who knows?—and some later reinforcements in its extended roof that might be similar. And so we’re chasing, and if they can’t provide, we have to go back to our surveyors to get a revaluation, which the vendors might not accept, and see as gazundering….
At the behest of our solicitors, we sent them all the warranties for the boiler. Now our boiler is having hiccups. We can’t ring the manufacturers, because we don’t have our warranties. But we have to fix it, because we’ve asserted to our buyer that it’s fine in the property information forms. The forms which we gave to our solicitors. Which prompted our solicitors to ask us for the original documents. Which we now no longer have….
Meanwhile, K. and my twin conferences abroad, blocking out and blocking off the end of September, remain unbudgeable, daring the house-move timetable to make a flying leap over them. Daring it.
… I hope you can see at least some of the reasons why I’m not posting here much.