I will be so glad to get this last week gone. A week of feeling like crap each and every day – this cold (or whatever) didn’t have the nuts to just out and clobber me but it’s incessant sniping has been unpleasant.
J is looking at houses. She wants to buy a house. The fact is that adaptations are needed and the sooner we could get them the less anger/frustration/tears will happen and such homes do exist. There is one in the next village – it’s £180K and according to J would suit. The bonus of needing adaptations is that houses with them do not attract a premium on the open market. But the only people that will lend us that money have interest rates that would make even a credit card company blush. So it’s a No. Which I know anyway. If I can’t have I spend very few moments thinking about it because doing so is wasted time. But J has this need to get housing sorted, to try and make things better in some odd way even though she knows it can’t be done. So she looks for and goes to see houses, that annoys me because as much as I want us in such a house it cannot ever happen and I say so – and that annoys her which annoys me. And so it goes round. I’ve said before that a lottery win wouldn’t make masses of difference but a few numbers and that house would make a colossal improvement possible. And there I go dreaming ….