Wallowing in regret

So, we went to the notaire's on Friday morning and signed the papers, despite my repeated entreaties to B that we just don't show up and forget about the whole stupid "Let's make ourselves homeless" idea I had dreamed up way back in December. So, the good news is that we don't have to move out until the 1st of June. The bad news is that we still have to move out. BUT the buyers are getting on in years and I cheer myself up by imagining the likelihood of one of them kicking it before June. A quick perusal of actuarial statistics points out that the chances are in fact quite high. Then, I tell myself, not only would they back out of the sale and leave us in peace in our lovely little home, but we would get to keep the 10% deposit.

Shut up. It could happen. And I am not evil for thinking that.

On the off chance that one of them doesn't die suddenly, I have begun the long hard slog that is finding an apartment in Paris. Its not pretty people. Everything is old and dirty and smelling of cats, on the first floor on a major boulevard, with a view out the kitchen of a brick wall, for the knockdown drag-out price of 1,000,000 euro. In all fairness, I do keep telling the agents that we are looking for a fixer-upper. But I fear they have over-estimated by abilities when they show me apartments like the one I just mentioned. Much as I would like to create a detour around the Blvd Malesherbes and plant a lush garden to look out on, I don't have enough pull with Delanoe to manage that.

So basically, we have come to the realization that the only way we are going to find a decent place to live, one that doesn't make us regret every single day the decision to sell our current abode, is for me to go back to work full-time so we can get a bigger loan. Obviously, I was planning on going back to work anyways but now we have some serious time limits. I need to find a job first of all. Then I need to make sure that there is no trial period for my contract. Then I have to manage to find full-time childcare for Ella.

And then I have to actually work.

Why oh why did we ever sell our apartment. (All this angst maybe related to my somewhat ill-timed purchase of the DVD's for Season Two of The Office. Nothing makes you more excited about job market than remembering how many of your bosses ressembled Michael...)