I didn't know they allowed freaks to sublet...

We found an apartment for me to stay whilst in pursuit of the "career".
Ladies and gentlemen, may I officially introduce God - my official protector. Why? Hoo boy..
You should've seen some of the places husband and I looked at. We went down over the weekend on the great house-share hunt. Saturday was ok because although a couple of the places were in less than salubrious areas, they were spotless. And then we had a viewing in this absolutely MASSIVE I-don't-need-the-money-because-I'm-loaded kind of house and the room and ensuite was like something out of a fairytale. So was the guy. The room was like everything a girl would ever want in room replete with cast-iron bed and gorgeous dolls' house. It really was a fairytale room! Unfortunately the guy was like the evil villain. He was about 3' 4" and no real physical threat but seriously.. you should've seen him. The only thing missing was the slithering and hissing. I might post him a medallion because he kinda looked lost without it. Oh yeah. NO room is worth the hassle of being polite to this freak. Shame. I really liked the room....
There was also this great couple with a room but only one shared bathroom. I mean seriously, one bathroom, three women who work. Is there any equation to solve this conundrum?
Needless to say, by Sunday I'm starting to get desperate and manically depressed and thinking of quitting the job I haven't started yet, take up excessive drinking and dammit just go on the damn dole. I didn't mention this to husband. The poor guy drove a million miles to get here...
So we go and look at 3 more houses and by the end of that I was going to just drown myself in the Thames. People, the Thames was cleaner than these places. The first one was described to me by the owner as "cozyily" decorated. I - being a naive moron - think, 'No biggie. I can deal with chintz'.... Oh no. Chintz would have been embraced wholeheartedly. This chic's idea of cozy was FILTHY. The bed looked like it was suffering from squatters of the million-legged kind, the wardrobe was broken, the curtains were an off-white which was a problem since they were supposed to be white. And then the chic's dad took us into the living room. Or rather, I think it was the living room. It was about 4 square inches. THEY HAD RINGS ON THE GLASS TABLE! COME ON! Yeah I have a problem, I know. The kitchen *shudder*.. Let's just not go there.. The bathtub and toilet - which was off the kitchen - (I know. Disgusting) was not good. The bathtub had filthy rings and I didn't even step further in to check the toilet. NO way dude!
The second house was marginally better but then again, could anywhere actually GET worse?!
And then we had the 3rd.. This had a red lightbulb on the first floor - yep. A RED lightbulb - and a floater in the toilet off the kitchen that poor ole hubby had the misfortune of spotting whilst doing a bathroom recce. The things that boy will do for me *sigh*. Little sweetie!
Not surprisingly, by this point I'm asking the husband to run me over with the car inbetween chanting "they shoot horses don't they". And then, finally, because life was meaningless anyway, I rung God's angel. An hour later we went to visit her. A gorgeous little apartment about two steps away from the river Thames (that I miraculously didn't want to jump into anymore) with a beautiful bedroom and own spotless bathroom, gorgeous living room and cutesy little kitchen and my soul was calmed. And a contract was signed. And I stopped trying to coerce husband into a suicide pact.
And I'm just opposite the House of Fraser.
Seriously folkses, does life get any better?! Hubby also has unlimited access to stay and angel and myself never get to see very much of each other because of different work times. And we found a shortcut so the trip is 209 miles (actually less because I wasn't paying attention, looking at all the pretty trees) and less than 3 hours. Thank you God, Fates, Buddha, fairies down the garden, Elvis, whoever!
Now all I have to worry about is not getting fired...