Letting agents are the parasitic scum of the earth, and our particular EVERTONIAN wankburst deserves his own special circle of hell. Having told us in jubilant tones to “Pack your things and get ready to move, all the references check out”, he informed me today when I called him that in fact, they do not have either our employer or landlord references. So he is a grade A eejit, and I hope his balls fall off.
It’s not impossible to get it all sorted by Tuesday, it’s just unnecessary stress when I have two more exams to freak out over and it was supposed to all be sorted by now.
I know they say it’s stressful, but I would like for once to not be flying by the seat of my pants when it comes to moving house. I would also like to never, ever move house again after this time. But seriously, is there some law of nature dictating we should all turn into gibbering wrecks with a postcode change? I’m beginning to warm to Marx and Rousseau’s stances on the evils of private property. Not that it stopped me demolishing both of them in my exam yesterday.