Today was a real accomplishment. It took a lot of preparation to put together the 13 separate documents for the Home Office, and with the 5-and-a-half hours of waiting time and nail-biting moments of prayer culminating in, "NUMBER A76, PLEASE PICKUP YOUR PASSPORT AT WINDOW 44," I was almost certainly the happiest person in East Croydon. Now, I can legally temp and earn us some extra cash! I can start to write freelance articles again (if I ever work up the courage)! I can even cross the UK border without answering inane questions about my current employer! So, why am I still so wound up and unable to sleep, and writing my first blog at 4 AM?
Well, there is the sale of the flat, my joblessness, my fear of French (the language) and tomorrow night's dinner for 6 to prepare for (well okay, it's for 4, but we always cook with leftovers in mind). What weighs most heavily is the prospect of complete strangers coming into our home and sussing out whether or not they want it. People are coming to view it tomorrow! I was cleaning the kitchen until 11 PM, and made a list of what else needs cleaning before they arrive. I would like to start cleaning again... NOW. **Imagine obsessive-compulsive facial ticks here.**
I desperately need to relax, get my bearings and most importantly, trust God with the outcome. So what if our flat is littered with toys and too much furniture? So what if the walls are completely bare, naked of decoration, despite the fact we've been living here for 3 years? Even if I add/change/delete, potential buyers may not like it anyway. If it doesn't sell, there may be a reason we ought to stay in London.
Time to get back to the basics. Warm milk with a squeeze of honey sounds good.
Oh no, I just looked out the window and here comes the sun...
We spent New Year's in Perpignan, where it got up to 18 C (65 F)
