When I moved back home last year I said I would give myself a year to sort myself and my finances out. That year was up last Monday. I actually started looking for a flat about 4 weeks ago and, my God, has this been a depressing business. I'm not sure what I expected, I am rather impatient. Once I have decided on a course of action (in itself quite difficult) I sort of expect things to fall into place but the perfect apartment has remained an elusive beast. My days have been punctuated with feverish assaults on rightmove followed by bouts of "I'll never find anywhere" and "I'm going to end up in some depressing bedsit listening to The Smiths". Last Saturday afternoon was spent loitering in the drizzle outside the most depressing of ugly new builds waiting for an elusive estate agent. He never did show up.
However, this morning brings with it a glimmer of hope. The viewing is on Monday. In the meantime, there are always more cupcakes.