Flannel jammies, a leather couch and a flat with storage heaters are not the best combination, it turns out. Although I was fine and comfy last time I did this. Oh, I know – spring is here!
Mercifully, a shower was available.
Now, I was hoping to set off sharpish. The Sums are calling and – as is usual even though I’ve cut my sights down from 21 hours a week to merely 14 (only twice what a Bright person would need to do this goddamn course in two years, so it informs me) – I’m having a hard time making the, er, grade. However, when I got up at nine, Cava was in the middle of making us chilli and ginger cookies – and the flour had run out, so she was waiting on a neighbour to get up so she could ask for some. (Wow, Cava must have, like, Local Shops for Local People! I remember back in the day, when I lived in a small village and nothing was open on a Sunday – or indeed, any other time I had free time, heh, and the pubs shut for the afternoon.)
Well, it would have been churlish to leave in the middle of being made cookies, and besides, to do so, I would have had to abandon Licorice to make her own way home. Now, I know she’s perfectly capable of doing so, but she is the fiancé of one of my martial arts instructors, and (cringe) roughly half my age – so I feel kinda compelled to at least look like I’m looking out for her, even though she’d probably slap me for it if she knew.
So there followed a lazy, sunny Sunday of sitting around annoying the cats and talking about our pets, past and present, and having food brought in roughly every five minutes. Cava is a well-respectable hostess. And it was highly enjoyable, and yes, I probably needed it and I know, I know, I am such an ungrateful cow, god, but I find it very hard to sit on my arse when Things Need Doing. Maybe, you know, I could pile in six hours of Sums when I get in – nope, I’m gonna be past my bedtime and pay the piper tomorrow. Le SIGH.
(It’s roughly four hours door to door, from Cava’s to mine, and that’s if I cheat and take public transport the whole way).
I was also slightly bummed not to have heard from this Latvian couple, who had said they would text about the spare room. Still, this happened last time as well, so I was at least not pinning my hopes on it. And as I said, when we were on the bus, All I have to do is get into the habit of running up and down the flat in my jammies all the time so that I will be very upset if that has to end, and then something will happen, you bet your arse.
The words were hardly out of my mouth when my mobile rang, and lo, it was the Latvian couple and they wanted to come back for a second viewing. In half an hour. Heh, still in Edinburgh! I asked to postpone it for two and a half hours. And I still had to spring for a cab from the train station to make it in time. Ha, so much for my celebration that I had spent less than last time I came through! And then, the instant I was in the door, instead of collapsing in relief, there was the running round cleaning – not to mention, thanking my lucky stars I cleaned the place on Friday before collapsing. And was it all worth it, after all that?
Well, they want to move in! Now. Like, ‘Can we come back with our bags?’, Now.
Erk. I only have one set of spare keys, no lease drawn up, the money has not changed hands… is this a good thing to do?
I kept terror at bay by baking cookies with the dough Cava gave me and phoning my Chestnut-haired Old Mother. To my shock, the couple actually came back. With bags. And immediately wanted to borrow the iron to iron a shirt. Wow. Okay, that doesn’t sound like the actions of a pair of desperados (unless they’re very cunning).
I couldn’t get the internet connection working, having forgotten the damn password (look, the last time I did this was over two years ago) but I did get a fifty wired over, using my laptop, as a peace offering. And then I went to bed and slept the sleep of the bewildered and utterly terrified, which is to say, not a great deal of it, and was up at the crack of seven in the morning, on my day off, to sort everything out. How glad was I to have today off? The entire to-do list for today has been scotched, and there are twenty-four Things on the new list!
I put on a big pot of the Good Coffee so I would be Mentally Alert. There are keys to cut and forms to draw up and fill out and the Remortgage forms (which are even scarier, and all say, FILL THIS IN NOW or ELSE) to fill in and send off, and of course they require the dragging out and sorting out of every single last bit of admin that’s been sitting around for (mumble mumble months). Well, and don’t I wish I’d got a wiggle on now, eh!
Maybe being Alert was not a really sensible reaction to today’s schedule. It only amplified the scariness of the forms and the speed with which I had to run around, not to mention, the awkwardness I felt at suddenly having New People living under my roof (and doubtless Judging me on everything and finding me wanting. Screw it, take their money, clean around them and learn not to care about their opinions!)
And it was bright and sunny out and the shops were stowed with people (having stayed in a hotel for the past fortnight, the Latvian couple were understandably keen to use the washing machine. And my ex-flatmate appears to have taken all the clothes-pegs when she left. To the Pound Shop, Batman! No, it is not Supermarket Sweep. When the dust cleared, I discovered myself to be the proud owner of three lint rollers and half a hundredweight of Spare Bike Lights – for a bike that doesn’t yet work, at that. I can’t remember why I thought it was a good idea.)
Well, I did manage to get in three hours’ Sums round all that, so I was quite chuffed with myself. Albeit, on tenterhooks about whether, having spent my day off running myself ragged, they’d suddenly say, no it’s not acceptable, refuse to sign and sod off, leaving me (slightly) out of pocket.
Instead, my new flatmates made me dinner. And asked if they had permission to say grace before we ate it. Ah. Ahhhhhhh. Now there are lots of perfectly lovely Christians out there – and there are also lots of Christians who are perfectly lovely until I say or do something that proves I am Different from them in some way, and then it’s War. In my experience, the more observant they are – I mean in terms of religion, not eagle-eyed snooping – the more likely the latter is to happen. Although there is a direct correlation between that and ‘blood relatives’ so I could confusing correlation and causality here. However, I have racks of pagan books, I am about to donate eggs, de yada de yada; the race is on between your man’s contract finishing up and me being burned at the stake, I suspect. Before they even get a glimpse inside my bedroom door. And there’s a shop selling stakes not a stone’s throw from here. In fact, it probably also sells stones the perfect size for throwing. Oh deary dear.
Still, that’s all safely in the future, and they redeemed themselves in my eyes by telling a graphic story, over dinner, of once eating a Tesco salmon fillet which later turned out to have a huge worm in it. Hee.
In conclusion: Right now, I have a ferociously huge sum deposited in my account and the wolf is kept from the overdraft! Or something.