Now I am starting to panic ... Fiercely. Mr Smith put in an offer for our dream house and it was rejected. Not enough money not because we smell. And now the agent is out so we can't up our offer.
Oh dear oh dear. If someone else buys it I will be undone. Actually, what a relief. Who wants a nine bedroom house in shit town anyway? Far too big.
Mr Smith has gone to do battle with the meaniepants company he used to work for in order to get the money they owe him. They are so stupid. It is now 18 months or more since he left and they owe him a shedload of dosh that they just haven't bothered to pay. Legal action time. I sent him off with polished armour and a look of invincibility about him. Slay them Smithy.
And now I thought I would paint a lovely balloony picture but it ain't easy when you are all nervous and worried. I will have a nice cup of tea and some heroin. Ok maybe hold the heroin. I will have some chocolate.
Dancing tonight. Jingle jangle.
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