I know it's been a while. I know I've not written for three weeks, and during the last month of February, I'd shat out just one post.
But things are happening; "Moving House" things. It isn't the moving house that's stressful. I haven't physically done that, for one thing, but it's all the bullshit that surrounds it.
Tonight, as I crawled back from work, I noticed a letter from my solicitor (Check me out with my Solicitor, n' shit). Apparently, they'd received the mortgage offer I'd got only last week, and can I sign here and here, and have it witnessed here?
This is not a moment too soon. In the absence of anyone getting back to me, I've had to go for broke on Monday, telling my landlord in writing to "Go Fuck yourself", and "use my deposit as this last month's rent, because after four and a half years of ignoring our pleas to stop the damp, repair the taps, and remove that mouse in the hope that we might just fuck off and leave you alone instead, I now have every confidence that you will plunge into our deposit in one last, desperate moneygrab. Well you can't. That deposit is now 'March'. You are the worst landlord I have ever had, I've never even met you, and I hope your rectum develops a very painful rip."
Something tells me he's not going to take that lying down.
Meanwhile, back to the move, I am soon to be 'Exchanging Contracts,', whatever that means, in about a week. Then I will be travelling to my brand new bachelor pad - henceforth known as Magnificent North-ish London Shag Palace, or Pit Of Filth And Doom Where I Lock Myself In To Masturbate With Greater Frequency And Enthusiasm Than A Caged, Demented Chimp - to measure rooms and windows in preparation of the whole furniture buying shit.
But I'm tired, so very, very tired. I'm not stressed yet - at least I don't think I am - but this is consuming every part of me. I've got about 3 weeks left in this flat and with Large Northern Flatmate (soon to be relegated to 'Large Northern Mate'), and then it's Operation: Grow The Fuck Up.
It all seems too good to be true, to be honest. I've even considered closing this blog, as it feels as if I have some kind of 'ending' now.
Of course, there are too many loose ends; My job, for one, my sex life (or rather my lack of it), that dead body under the driveway.
So that's that. I know I've been neglecting many of you, and I'm sorry, but please bear with me. You see, I'm movin' on up now, getting out of the darkness. My light shines on, my light shines on, my light shines on.