Living on the Edge

I hate real estate. I hate every little thing about it. It sets my teeth on edge even thinking about it. I could never, ever in my wildest dreams, be one of those people who buys and sells houses for a living. At this point in our transactions, I'm about ready to call it quits and live in West Virginia forever. One one side we have a buyer wanting anything and everything to be absolutely perfect by closing, which is an impossibility, both because of time and money. On the other side we have a seller who has lived in their home for almost forty years is very sentimentally attached to it. Which is understandable. However, that doesn't mean that the home is worth any more money than what it's worth. We have an offer in, but they won't even see it until their daughter gets into town. The agent is hoping that she'll be able to help them understand things a little better.

Until things get settled, I'll be holed up over here with my shoulders up around my ears and my teeth gnashed together and a bottle of ibuprofen clutched in my white knuckled hands.

Good times.

Drained

Normally on Mondays visitors to The Cheese Party usually come upon a photo, but today you are out of luck. I haven't picked up my camera since Lucy's hilariously unfortunate vaseline incident. Last week kicked me squarely in the ass, and I'm still kind of limping around. Four out of five of us are sick. In fact, I just got back from dragging the three littlest sick ones to the doctor's office.

(Side bar: why is it that whenever I have to take all three kids to the doctor's office, the only available exam room is approximately the size of a phone booth?)

(Double side bar: at what point do you think referencing the size of a phone booth will become obsolete? Seriously, I haven't seen one in years. I'm old.)

Luckily, no one is seriously sick. Just annoyingly, snot on everything sick. But somehow I'm the only one who wants to nap every day. The other three sickies want to run around like maniacs with ribbons of mucus trailing behind them. Well, Maggie can't run, but that doesn't mean she doesn't want to.

We don't have any showings scheduled for today, which makes me one part relieved and one part anxious. Last week we had eleven showings and twelve parties at our open house, but no one has made an offer yet, which is keeping me up at night. Which is likely the reason I'm always wanting to nap.

(For serious, I went to bed at 8pm last night. On fucking Big Love finale and Oscar night. And I don't just mean in bed. I was lights out, drooling on my pillow by 8:05. So, so lame.)

Hopefully a few of the more interested parties will be back around some time this week, because I don't know how much of this I can take. If it takes too long, I might have to take the money from the sale and use it to buy a lifetime supply of valium.