Okay, they've finished plastering/painting the ceilings (taking huge chunks out of all the walls in the process, and leaving all the light-fittings hanging out) and they've put the boiler in (taking more chunks out of the walls including a large hole in the front wall, and ripping out some of the skirting boards). The boiler may even work, but it can only be plugged in with a duct-taped-together power cable stretching through two rooms, so it's a bit hard to tell. Somewhere along the line they nicked one of our radiators (which we didn't particularly want there anyway, but you know, it's the principle of the thing). I said there was no need to replace it, and now they have replaced it, and will probably expect to be paid for it. They've also left every single room in the house several inches thick in plaster-dust and ground-in dirt, walls splattered with plaster and general grime, etc.
I don't think there's any way we can delay the move now, but I also don't see how we can move in on Tuesday/Wednesday (it's a two-day move). We could spend all tomorrow cleaning the house, but there's no point if they really are (as promised) going to come back on Monday and patch things up, because they'll just trash everything again. And if they don't patch things up, then we have to move into a house which still has gaping holes in all the walls, and somehow move everything out again when we get some more builders in to fix everything -- who will not only trash the house again but trash all our stuff as well this time.
I feel sick and tearful and angry every time I think about any of it. We bought a shabby-but-liveable-in house, and we've wasted thousands of pounds making it unliveable-in, and now we have to live in it anyway. If I'd known it was going to be this awful we could have hung on to this flat for another two months while we got the house sorted out, but it's too late for that now.
I suppose this is only what I deserve for being too fucking incompetent to do my own plastering, and too stupid to know how to tell whether builders are going to be useless (I trusted the recommendation of lots of people at work), but it's utterly miserable. I don't want to live in a house that's falling to pieces around me, where everything is covered in dust. I spend enough time feeling as though I'm carrying suitcases full of sand around with me, I don't need someone to make the metaphor real.
People keep making kind offers of help and suggesting "painting parties", but what we need is an electrician and a plasterer who can come out at zero notice and won't charge the earth, and some kind of miracle by which Monday can be made to last for approximately 72 hours.
I just don't know what to do.
ETA: Owen points out that we can't delay the move because the movers would charge us sixty percent of the cost of the move to change the date at this short notice.