Seriously - I seem to be having the worst luck ever. I feel a bit like I had one nice weekend, and now I'm having to pay for it big-time.
So far this week:
- I've walked into the sharp corner of the coffee table twice - one bright red stripe to each knee - and a bench on the way to work - huge scrape / bruise to the shin. All in the space of 12 hours.
- I finally managed to get hold of my errant ex-landlord to chase him about my releasing my deposit, only to be told that actually he wants to deduct me £185 for cleaning. Cleaning!! I vacuumed, washed, swept and tidied that flat when I left, and it was in pretty much exactly the same shape as when I arrived. It was tidy and habitable, and there was no damage outside what you'd expect for a year's normal wear and tear. I hadn't even smashed a plate or glass in my time there. Unfortunately, the landlord didn't go to inspect it himself, but sent a professional inventory clerk, who even more unfortunately went in with the new tenant. It would appear that the new tenant has demanded everything be professionally cleaned, including the sofa, which already had faint marks and wear and tear when I moved in. No way in hell am I paying for some new tenant's super-finicky cleaning requirements, especially since the clerk probably didn't see the flat before I moved in so therefore can't make a judgment on the condition. I'm just so fed up with all this shit from this house-move. I'm disputing the deduction, and the only vaguely good thing is that when I spoke to the landlord yesterday, he sounded like he's open to negotiation. Mind you, the agency are being a pain and could take a masterclass in "it's not our problem and we won't be helping". Thank god the law comes down on the side of the tenant on this, but means I won't probably be getting any of my deposit back any time soon until it's sorted.
- I was still technically dating somebody else until yesterday, who I'd been seeing for a couple of months. It was sort of dying the death anyway, even before the new boy came along, and I was kind of hoping it would all just fade away quietly, since we hadn't seen each other and had barely spoken since before I moved, but no such luck, and I had to tell him last night. I haaaaate letting people down, even though it did have to be done and he agreed with me, but it was still traumatic and crappy.
- I dropped my iPhone (the new one I've only had for about 2 months) on the way to work this morning and cracked the screen, scraped / chipped the top. Great.
- The surfboard I'd found on eBay that seemed perfect was withdrawn from sale before the auction even flipping ended.
- And just for a finale - my fruit salad box didn't close properly this morning, so as I was carrying my notebooks and breakfast to a meeting, I suddenly felt something cold trickling down my left side, and realised that my notebook, on which my salad box was resting, was a little lake of orange juice that my dripping all down my pale jumper and grey trousers. Great.
Le Sigh. Just time to batten down the hatches and keep plodding I guess. The house stuff will all sort itself out eventually. Breaking up with Andy was the right thing to do. The phone is only cosmetically damaged, bruises will fade, and the fruit juice has dried out. And in the meantime it's nearly Christmas and time to catch up with my friends and family and appreciate what has gone right. Nearly the end of the year now. Fresh starts, a brand new year and brand new adventures hover on the horizon, beckoning us forwards. I just need to tidy up the loose ends and move forwards.