So I promised that I would write a quick update about what happened after we were told we were going to get the keys. Originally I was going to include pictures of the house and all but I ended up having quite a busy day anyway and there is no way I'm going to start taking pictures now. Etc, etc. (Plus I'm sitting on my couch, eating biscuits. Life is good.)
So when we woke up on Friday morning we phoned our solicitor and skeptically asked if we could get the keys or not. He said that he just had to wire our money to the other solicitor, and then the keys would be our's. That would take two hours, maximum. "Yay!" is the summary of our answer. After two hours we phoned him again. The money hadn't reached the other solicitor yet. "How very strange" we thought. This went on for a while until it was found out that the money had never been transferred at all (and we were getting seriously pissed off), but that it was going to be transferred now.
At this point we were told that the key was ours but that we had to pick it up at the estate agent's office. In a town an hour away. Before they closed at 5pm. Guys... It was a race against time. (Remember it was Friday night and if we didn't get the keys then we'd have to wait until Monday. Waiting another weekend felt unbearable.) Somehow we got there in time and the keys were handed to us and we could happily drive home with the knowledge that we would finally get out house that we've waited for so long.
Have you ever been in that situation where almost everything that can go wrong goes wrong? And then somebody jokes and says "the only thing missing is...", and then that happens as well? So that everything has gone wrong? Well when we arrived back at Steve's parents' house, tired and hungry, Steve's mom said, half-grumpy, half-jokingly "This better be the right keys".
I'm sure you all know what happened next.
Luckily the estate agents also had a terrible day and were working late, so when we phoned the office they were still there. At ten at night we were all standing outside the house, trying every house key in their possession, until the right set was found. And then we walked into our house for the first time since September. (Spoiler alert; there was more to do than we originally thought. The rooms were smaller than in my head. And that dining area that I thought I had? Well, it's more like a "path from door to fridge where a tiny table might fit"-area.)
Since that Friday we have spent most of our time getting the yellow paint of skirting boards, pulling out old nails hidden in the walls, painted them, getting the kitchen and bathroom tiled, new carpet had to be put down in two rooms, building furniture and a ton of small things that I can't even remember. Our heating worked sporadically the first ten days, but it seems to be fine now. I'm fairly certain that I can for the first time in my life see a subtle arm muscle belonging to me. And although it's not finished yet, it's certainly possible to live here. So naturally, we moved into the chaos.
I'm hoping to post pictures of what the house used to look like before the end of the week, but not tomorrow because I'm looking forward to an interview + a good time with friends.