We already know what the post is going to be.
*Mirror selfie of Jack dressed like a teenage boy but with tits or midriff or fanny on display*
We made it. 56,000 boxes, 27,000 cups of tea, six freight lorries and many hours and myself and SB reach our new home. This will be the one that I paint and love and everything will be the best but also I am very poor so don’t stop the cashos rolling in. Not slept for a week and my neck, shoulder, brain and crumbly teeth are sending sharp pains through my sternum. But I bravely face this cacophony of challenges, despite the onomatopoeic nature of my defenestration… (continues for 50,000 words).
Two weeks later:
* I’m looking for some gentle legal advice from you lovely lot in the
comments club
.
After decades of living in insecure housing and living through the most bone crushing poverty, I finally achieved what I always wanted - a forever home for me
and SB.
As you know I have many, MANY dear friends and acquaintances, most of whom would give their lives for me, such as the lovely friend who owns the painting and decorating shop and the ones who leave soup on the doorstep. Someone somewhere must have a pretty damn strong grudge against me, because since moving in, I’ve discovered the whole house NEEDS REDECORATION AND REWIRING. Despite viewing the property 6 times to make sure my mustard coloured lockers would fit in the lounge-come bedroom, I was blindsided due to bad mentals and therefore did not notice the state of disrepair the
precious forever home tit heap was in.
As I paid cash on a sold as seen contract, I have found myself with no recourse to complain. Do they want me to LITERALLY STOP BREATHING? How on earth am I supposed to find the money for this?
The trolls have lost me my livelihood, I now will have to go back to sofa surfing and poor SB’s marbles I’d bought him for Christmas will have to be pawned.
the tip jar is here if you want to recognise the work I do, but otherwise happy to hear from any lawyers amongst you lovely lot.
send
doggos cash *