No end in sight

Sigh. I rue my flat. I'm near beyond caring about it now, but it still seems to rise up and punch me in the gut every once in a while. An influx of unforeseen bills has landed in my lap, including a whopping council bill tax which is wrong and I should be able to successfully challenge, once I work up the energy to do so. In the meantime I'm still trying to sort out the tangle surrounding the three years worth of tax returns the Inland Revenue dumped on me as well. I'm increasingly annoyed with my old flatmate - this would have been far less of a pickle if only she'd forwarded on my mail, rather than sitting on it for over a year. I made a trip to the bank and they fortunately acquiesced to my request for copies of three years worth of banks statements. Once they arrive I should be able to fill out most of the required information. I still have a National Savings account for which I don't have any statements which might prove troublesome, but I'll worry about that later.

I'm not having fun.