OK! Very funny, the joke’s over. I’ll take that job now. Anybody. Anybody. Bueller. Come on, seriously, I’ve had enough now and I’m starting to get worried. A few weeks is fair enough, go through the hell of searching for a job, of filling in countless forms with their ridiculous questions, but I’d very much like a job now.
The angst is starting to bite. You know the angst is biting when you start singing to yourself in a high pitched squeal and when small, almost inconsequential, problems make you want to give up. Well the angst has locked its shark like teeth around my ripe plump posterior and it isn’t letting go. Bugger. The only way to tackle the angst is to have a plan and achieve steps on that ladder to success, each step gives you hope. My first step is to get a flat mate to relieve some of the pressure of paying the mortgage. I have five people coming to look at the room this weekend, so I can only hope one of them isn’t too freaked out by the giant clown head I leave on the pillow. Maybe I should chuck that.
Step two is to go down the council tax people and see what help they can give me. I need everything I can get at this stage. I’m only worried that by having a flat mate I might invalidate getting help on the council tax. The one thing about this that absolutely pisses me off is that I can go to talk to my mortgage company about taking a payment holiday but I have to keep paying for the bloody Olympics. Unless I get a job with the Olympic Delivery Agency which would be great, like getting your money back.
Step three is to go into my mortgage company and have a chat with them about what I can do. My fixed rate is up shortly and the Bank of England have done their bit by reducing the interest rate to 0.5%. So hopefully payments should fall.
I don’t have a step four. I DON’T HAVE A STEP 4!!!! DONT PANIC. DON’T PANIC!
Boy this angst is killing me.