The plan…another plan! is to sell the flat. This is not a sad proposition since it has only been in possession for two years and was not the family home. Far different from the masive undertaking we will face when it comes time to sell our home of 26 years in America.
We have had the flat valued and before we could put it on the market back in July a resident of the block phoned me.
He had a friend who was interested so could we give him first refusal?
Of course! I spoke to the interested friend and everything seemed perfect, well, I don’t have the whole plan only the part I can see and manipulate, it seemed perfect in relation to the fragment of my discernible life.
He is a widower and wants to downsize, he had looked at two other flats in the block last year but they had been,
“Too big!” he said.
“Ours is the smallest floor plan in the building,” I said, “and has direct access to the spacious gardens,” I continued, a selling point for me.
He also mentioned that he wanted to be able to re-decorate to his specifications so not to bother doing anything until he had seen it.
I agreed to wait for him to get back from one holiday and then another before doing anything further with estate agents or decorating. I did re-carpet, the only thing I could not live with, but I restrained myself from looking at kitchen and bathroom designs to pass the time.
Eventually the prospective buyer came to look around last week. I had been obediently patient groping in the dark in an attempt to illuminate some parts of the plan I was not privy to.
I welcomed him heartily as he walked through the door and showed him around slowly, carefully, thoroughly. We sat in the lounge and talked about what he wanted, what I needed and how we were going to set a date that suited us both for exchanging contracts and moving. Next summer would be good for both of us.
“Perfect,” I thought as I peered short-sightedly at the scrap of plan I had available.
We went outside and viewed the loveliness of having a garden that needed no personal upkeep.
Then, out of the blue, for he had looked at his watch and I knew his departure was imminent, he stood up and said,
“It’s a lot larger than I thought. I don’t think I need two bedrooms and two bathrooms although it would be nice. I hate housework.”
And he left saying he’d get back to me in two weeks.
Two weeks!
All this waiting. Where’s that plan?
I am calling him today, after one week, because I think that perhaps “too big” is his code for “more than I wanted to spend.”
I have to get this flat on the market and sold.
That’s the plan…
I went back to looking at kitchen and bathroom designs, no harm in dreaming and having a bit of fun while His perfect plan is unfolding behind my back.
More hair pulling moments.
Well hello there! My name is Vivienne McNeny.
I am an empty nester exploring life as a Boomer…you could say I'm happily Boomering along!
As a homeschooling Mum I have finally quit the job of role model and mentor to my four children. I do what I want to do, eat when I feel like it, enjoy life with my blue eyed cowboy and clean my house once a month or so whether it needs it or not!
In true English form I write about the emergence of my true identity now that I can no longer hide behind my children as their Mum.
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