Selling a house on Twitter, now there's a thought..

(2 posts in one day is excessive, but I need to offload. Bear with me.)

I started the countdown to 5pm and the decision on whether this b&^%d was going to buy our house at 3.30 pm.

3.45: woke toddler from nap (Why did I do this. Not really sure, but thought we might try and do something with the afternoon).

3.50: to toddler: "Let's do some painting!" (great diversion for me, great fun for her)

4pm: toddler to me: "Paint face! Paint floor! Paint fridge! Paint....Mummy's face!"

4.10: me to toddler: "Ok that's enough now leave Mummys face alone. Now I know let's find some toys for the baby to play with" (she was starting to rev up for a 'I'm feeling left out' cry)

4.30: me to toddler: "Ok the baby doesn't want to be bounced quite so violently darling. How about Pizza Express for supper" (had to escape the tension in our house, him indoors talking alternately to estate agent and solicitor whilst pacing the floor).

4.45: "Hello, glass of white for me please and bolognaise for her. Quick as you like thanks."

4.50: Wine arrives. Hallelujah. Notice 2 yummy mummies (who are size 6's with perfect hair) and their yummy offspring on nearby table drinking mineral water eyeing me suspiciously.

5pm: feeling a bit self concious. Glass of wine in one hand, baby spoon in other and jar on table (not home made). Toddler is orange from spagetti sauce. Table is littered with wipes, crayons, books etc. My hair is coming out of my clip. I have no make up on. Standard baby sick on my top. I look slightly deranged.

5.10pm: him indoors arrives. 'It's not good news I'm afraid....'

It's at that moment I remember I still have paint on my face.

I dislike our buyer, or non buyer as he now is very very much. I would very much like to dig out his kidneys with a rusty spoon and lay them on a platter as a sacrifice to Thor or some such. I feel bitterly disspointed. Thoroughly depressed and bloody weepy.

We are trying to think of our plan b, but we didn't really have one. Start again I guess.

Maybe I could flog it on Twitter... now there's a thought.