If I am inhuman, I fail.
If I am human, I succeed.
That was the thought the finally got me round to, amid making popcorn and Sally wanting to talk me about yet another topic, the throughly depressing mortgage topic. The constant ruler and interrupter here for, oh, 2 years now. Because in the UK the process of buying a house can really test you. It can test you for years. It can test your humanity. And inhumanity.
Your future and the future of your family is slung in bundles of paper, from agent to lender to solicitor, and back and forth... hopefully in one piece, but not always.
In our case, not often.
One day it's dreaming of garden furniture and kittens at Christmas, and the next it's '11 months (if you're lucky) of caravan behind Uncle Sergei's place because days before the big day, in a moment of faith, you may have given your 30 days notice to vacate. And now, with one phone call from the real estate agent, it seems there will be a sudden conclusion to proceedings. Bye bye kittens.
And this is not what I wanted to write about.
No.
I was going to start on something about world peace. And solving that...
That's where I'll start off next.
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