Nope, even The Wamdue Project can't soothe my old bones tonight.
I've booked appointments with three estate agents this week. When I asked how long the appointments would take, the replies ranged from 30 minutes to 1 1/2 hours. Perhaps the guy who stays longest will expect two cups of tea. Maybe I should get the bong out?!
I wonder they will each answer when I tell them that I need the deal done and dusted by the end of August?
My life feels like it's withering away down here. It's difficult to explain that even though I'm gonna be leaving dearly loved ones behind, my life feels like it's time to move on.
It's pushing me
Casting creases to the calm
It's pulling me
Holding me safe from harm.
Me moving a further 100 miles from them doesn't mean my love for them is faltering. It's growing. It's grown enough for them to feel able to let me go. I like to imagine them feeling that even though the extra distance between us might hurt a little, seeing my happiness more than makes up for it.
3 parlez:
I'm sure your loved ones would rather see you happy than miserable but close by?
I'll be interested to see how you get on with your estate agents this week - I have three coming round tomorrow (and foolishly forgot to ask exactly how much of my time they'd be taking up - 1 1/2 hours seems a bit excessive to count the number of rooms and decide on a few flattering superlatives?)
I think they will because those that love us want our happiness and yours lies elsewhere. Good luck with the estate agents. x
sarah,
See next post, if you haven't already. Thanks for stopping by.
treacle,
Thanks for the luck.
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