Day 17 (cont) - in search of a normal, decent estate agent

Awesome feedback from writing guru on project and life. Words of blissful genius quite literally fell out of me onto my computer all afternoon.

Feeling so strong about this.

But - an exhausting day, full of typical nonsense that the modern 20something has to deal with.

The property ladder in London has, according to the newspapers, finally gone mad. 8 people are now trying to buy every home on the market. My indecision on what to do over my flat needs to come to an end. The school leavers from fucking foxtons are some of the shiftiest, most compromised people i have ever met. Not only have i had tears from one of the their 'sales negotiators' but her boss, who appears to be about 10 years old, then tried to emotionally blackmail me into taking a lower price. I held out and we got an improved offer, way over asking price, even if it meant the grommet like woman wouldn't receive her commission for another month.

Am i supposed to be upset about this?

Please! This is 2007. Sell the house, keep your client (me) happy, and get your poxy commission.

Don't, and you won't. Get over your pathetic role in life! It's not my fault you have chosen an existence at the bottom of the social and professional food chain.

Anyway, they now have a bigger fee, and i now have a better price, thanks to nothing more than a bit of good old fashioned backbone.

Added to this, the purchasing of the new place in heavenly position in hammersmith grove, is taking on the kind of operational pressure and logisitics usually reserved for hostile FTSE100 takeovers. As if it was not enough to be crafting a best selling novel, i now have a histrionic, upper class estate agent called clarissa to deal with.

Horrifying.

Added to this, I am still processing the dregs of the weekend. My liver hurts and my kidneys are pounding.

And the cherry on the cake is the ongoing, hopelessly complex and exhausting life negotiations with parents, who are safely half the world away in the southern hemisphere, thank god.

I am off to Bikram yoga to oggle bikini clad babes and sweat out the remnants of my gargantuan consumption on Sunday.

Roll on tomorrow - Wednesday is my most productive day of the week, namely because it is the day that resides far enough away form last weekend and not too close to next weekend.

I have a new mantra: "I am more than I appear to be. All the world's strength and power rests in me".

Powerful stuff.

Writing time: 5 hours due to sly, pompous, useless estate agents

Manifestation: 98% the fuckers won't get to me or my manifestation