This morning our solicitor called. It was Monday. It was early. And selling a house is such a stressful experience that you spend at least half the time expecting things to go wrong so it was not entirely surprising that when Amanda said our seller was pulling out of the deal I got the wrong end of the stick.
For half an hour we sat, slightly stunned, working out what we'd have to do. What we'd have to stop.
And then... And then... I realised what she'd actually said.
Seller, not buyer.
I called Amanda back to clarify what she'd said. That it was our seller who had changed her mind and wouldn't be proceeding. Not our buyer.
We're sorry that we won't be living there but if necessary we'll put our furniture into store and rent while we find another one.
Meanwhile, the skip is two-thirds full. Fifteen years of tax records have been shredded. The shed and garage have been cleared.
The packing has begun in earnest.