  ...and so the fun commences... Sitting here in a state of advanced coma...the surveyor's just been to look at the house to see if it's worth what the ITSC is paying for it. Bastard wouldn't even give me a clue about what he thought re. value, though. I wonder if he saw the patch of dodgy plaster under the window in the spare room? I artfully positioned a whole load of flat-pack boxes in front of it last night.
Bet it made not one iota of difference. So Heff and I have spent the last two days working our butts off to get the place looking like a viable home - rather than a slum we're only temporarily camping out in. House looks GREAT: it's clean ; we have a living room - with a sofa and everything *gasp* (except a telly *mutters*); we've done most of the washing; there's no cat-fur-tumble-weed under the beds; the study is organised and tidy; Heff has his own desk to pile stuff on; even the garden got a bit of a once-over. We finally made it to bed at 3 this morning. We're TOTALLY FUCKED!! Heff just went to the Co-op to get some bits for dinner - he looks like an extra from 'Night of the Living Dead'.
I hope he doesn't wander under a bus, or anything - he's got his discman on, so he won't be able to hear the screams (most unlike Heff). In other news, we are approaching solvent - yay!! Heff still hasn't heard anything about his carer's allowance: expect some kickass will be happening in the not-too-dostant-future. Currently, he's stock piling games for when I start writing; though he's itchy about getting his PC down here - as mine, apparently, is crap. (Does everything I want it to..well, eventually. ) (Usually, that is.
) (Except when it's having a pissy day or freaking out. ) *sigh* Anyway, I reckon we're almost at carpet-ripping out point. I am DYING to get rid of all the bloody woodchip. Give us both something positive to focus on: actual, visible, progress forward will be a refreshing change. Met Sid's (bro's) dog Marley on Sunday. He is adorable: chews everything in sight; drinks from your glass if you don't watch him like a hawk; and farts like the Devil.
But I wanna dog, now. Fat chance. I can't even have a tarantula anymore (lifelong ambition) as Heff is....well, not good around spiders. *pout* Fishtank? Heff's put up the Lord of the Rings poster we bought (for 10p - how could we resist?! ) in the study.
So now I have a collection of Nazgul, Uruk-Hai and Orcs glowering down at me: most off-putting. Though one of them does have this cool piercing: a bloody-great chain running from his nose-ring to a ring through his eyebrow. Nonetheless, every time I look up, Sauron is giving me this knowing, disapproving, look - like he knows about all the stuff I have 'not quite got around to' yet and should be getting on with. "Paranoia, paranoia, la-la-la-la-la..." Here comes Heff. OMIGOD he looks terrible. Though very cute in the hoodie of mine he has adopted.
Poor baby. Tho I notice tiredness makes him grumpy, monosyllabic - and not horny!! *gasp* Yes, there is actually something that prevents Heff from getting horny. Who'da thunk it? George wasn't very popular this morning when he trampled us awake half an hour before we actually had to wake up. He loves Heff: always makes a bee-line for the small piece of the top of his head that sticks out from under the duvet.
Then he paws at it and, as soon as Heff blearly pokes his head out, George droolz freely all over him or huffs rotting-cat-breath up his nose. I'm used to it; but it makes me queasy. I can imagine how thrilled Heff must be. That bloody cat is also eating us out of house and home again: he's troughing down food faster than we can buy it! Yesterday, between the time we got home from town, until we went to bed (about 8 hours) the little sod et 6 pouches of food. That was on top of the third of a can of whiskas, foil tray of chicken-flavoured Felix and ENTIRE can of tuna he'd already eaten in the morning before we went out.
Watching him slam down his fourth pouch last night Heff said, "what's he doing with it all? " Sadly, I suspect the answer is 'depositing it in next-door's flowerbeds'. Well, the evidence would suggest so: there are no cat turds in OUR garden... Not that I'm complaining, you understand. I reckon he (George) must have reached maximum density yesterday and is still full: I gave him chunks in slimey oog this morning and he sucked off all the oog and left the chunks. He is putting on weight like the clappers, though. Thank God.
His occasional 'cat impersonation' is starting to look quite realistic, now. Noelly is coming over for dinner tonight - the first time since he moved out. It will be good to see him; I'm a bit worried about him, as he was quite low over the weekend. I think that, now that the dust is beginning to settle, he's finally getting the tiime for the break-up and the move to sink in and start to affect him. He thinks he should be over it by now; but we were together for a pretty long time (by his standards, at least) and I think he's being a bit hard on himself. These things take time; and he's coped pretty well so far.
Especially considering that he never wanted us to break up in the first place. All in all, he's adjusted pretty well - apart from the odd wobble. I just hope that seeing the house all changed, and me with Heff in it, won't make him feel squicky. It's hard, coz we still love each other lots; tho, in my case, it's not the same any more. But I still care deeply about the little sod and want him to get on with his life and be happy. I hope he gets round to starting some of his art stuff soon.
This was, after all, one of the major reasons for him being on his own. *sigh* So, anyway, I'm making Moussaka for dinner. Interesting to see whether Heff will eat aubergines... Still, if he won't, George will: save us a few quid on Whiskas. So, I better go get on with roasting aubergines and slicing potatoes, then, I guess. Sooner I've done it, the sooner I can crawl back into my pit for a few extra hours' sleep... ....aahhh....sleeep.....sleeeeeep.....Sleeee...*nods*....zzzzzzz.....*unk*.....noooooo......must cook..dinna... *sigh* Pity - the kitchen's SOOOOO unbelievably clean, I don't wanna use it!
Coz then I'll just have to clean the bloody thing again. *gloom* Ah, the endless futility of housework. 
