The Brit's offer for our house has been accepted.
We might just have a home.
The irony is the moment I started looking at places to rent, the most amazing flat popped up out of the blue. The Brit's now-astute property knowledge had us a deal in less than 24 hours.
Christ on a Christmas tree I am so excited. We sat in the park opposite the flat and watched the sun hit the balcony, and then checked out the local pub around the corner. It's a gorgeous little street, not far from where I live now, but on the good side. Literally on the right side of the tracks, in Wandsworth.
I can nest!
1) Don't have to hear chavs called Wayne fight outside my window every weekend
2) I can buy that purple greyhound for the front hall (the Brit has given me permission. How awesome is that?)
3) We can live alone without any other
4) We can [formally] move in together. The Brit and I informally live together at the moment. We stay at each other's houses for prolonged periods of time. It's not ideal.
Frankly, I am delighted.