It feels as though I've been dragged through the emotional wringer over the past 5 days. I've gone from the heady heights of joyous excitement to the depths of despair and back again.
Why I thought any of this house-moving mallarkey would be, if not exactly easy, then at least not demoralisingly difficult, I have no idea.
Every single house move I've ever made (and over the past 35 years since I bought my very first flat there have been several) has been dogged by delays, gazumping, gazundering, endless frustration, unexpected expense, and in one spectacular case, downright daylight robbery!
I naively thought that in the 9 years since my last traumatic relocation, things might have moved on, and the process would have become more transparent, easier to negotiate and generally less wearing on the nerves.
I don't know WHAT I was thinking.....
Suffice to say I'm losing all round.
Losing sleep, losing confidence, losing the will to live.
The only things I seem to be gaining in spades are grey hairs.