Saturday: Go see 3 horrible flats that the estate agent I'm buying a flat from has found as temporary stopgaps while we wait for the sale to go through.
Sunday: A friend tells me about a much nicer flat in his building. It's small and has no garden and we'll have to carry out bikes up and down stairs. My partner feels pretty stressed about it all.
Monday: The surveyor rang. The flat I want to buy has serious damp problems and he may tell Halifax not to give us a mortgage for it. It looks like I'll have to start shopping for flats again. Since I put the bid on this 2 months ago, prices in the area have shot up. I have to move house in 1 week's time to a flat I had thought would be a stopgap while waiting for the sale to finish. I do some packing. I realise my headphones are broken.
Tuesday: I do some packing. I break my other headphones. Realised that my furniture, which I had intended to bring to my new flat, won't fit into the stopgap flat which is furnished. Put it on Freecycle. If I later move somewhere unfurnished, I'll be back to square one. I do some packing.
Wednesday: I do some packing. Realised just how much of my monthly wage will go to paying rent, council tax, and utilities. I do some packing.
Thursday: The Freecycle folks were all late. My dogs were upset by the strangers in the house and lots of barking and upset ensued. I do some packing.
Friday: I got an offer of an unfurnished stopgap, just 10 hours too late. I injured my knee a year ago and today I had an appointment at hospital for the results of my xray and MRI scan. The scan had been done by some company who had a mobile unit in the hospital car park. It turns out the company hadn't managed to send anyone's results to the hospital. A wasted trip.
It had been a long week at work and I'd been longing for it to end since Tuesday. Actually it's not over because I have to work tomorrow. I get new headphones and feel rather better for having working ones. On the way home, the dog groom rings and says she cut Coco's leg and she'll need stitches. I go meet them and we all go to the vet, where there is a queue of emergency cases. We get home 2 hours later and within 5 minutes I notice that the stitches are gone - Coco has eaten them. The vet is closed. The emergency vet is miles away and I have no car. I consider my options and eventually settle to go to the vet around the corner when it opens in the morning. I ring tomorrow's dogsitter to explain the situation and ask if she can pick Coco up from the vet. I feel sick from looking at Coco getting stitches. I do some packing. I realise I'm exhausted and a bit in shock. Up until this point, I'd felt pretty serene all week. I have no other explanation than the Citalopram I started taking about 2 months ago for depression and anxiety. Thank goodness I did or I'd be absolutely incapable of coping with this shit.