Is It Over Yet?

Thank you to all of the nice people (well, all two of you that I don't know IRL) who have inquired about my health & well-being. I am still alive & kicking (ask anyone who has had the misfortune to get in my way recently), but it's been one hell of a month.

Only one week into it & February is kicking. my. ass.

My office computer's hard drive decided that this was a good week to spontaneously combust (figuratively speaking), taking every little bit of information it contained along for the ride. I did have a back-up CD, although I hadn't actually updated it since just before Christmas. (Yes, I know, bad Shawn. Believe me, I've learned my lesson.) Turns out, it doesn't matter because that disk is MIA. Of course it is. Why was I even surprised? What didn't surprise me was the complete and utter lack of any kind of customer service from Dell. (Except for the charming & sympathetic William. Chris, if I ever leave you, I will be with William in the Philippines. He assures me the beaches are quite something.) I spoke to six people in four days, which is how long it took to receive a new hard drive that was "overnighted" on Monday. In the meantime, my boss decided that he would rather pay me sit at my desk and do, quite literally, nothing, rather than let me go home and work from there. And if you thought I was neurotic before, when I had things like deadlines and responsibilities to distract me? You have no idea how neurotic I can truly be when I have unlimited time to do nothing but think.

And I had plenty to think about, real estate-wise. I cannot even begin to address all of the issues that have come up with the sale of our house within the past week. But I would like to mention that every single one of them has been a result of some incompetent asshat not doing his or her job. I am so frustrated and sick of people right now, I haven't even been reading blogs. I KNOW! Can't get much worse than that, right? At one point earlier this week, I told Chris that I was considering a career change. To Unabomber. Not because of the whole letter bomb thing (although a few appraisers / Realtors / loan officers should be verrrrry careful right now. Kidding! I'm kidding! Please don't send the FBI to my house. Unless they would like to help us move, in which case we'll take any help we can get.), but because of the whole isolation-from-society-thing. Of course then I remembered that he lived in some little shack in the woods, and you know how I feel about Nature, which is where the dirt and bugs live. And besides, that would probably mean that I'd have to live more than 15 minutes from a Target, and, well, that's just completely unacceptable.

But don't worry, real estate didn't consume my every waking thought. There was my insurance company, whose claims line is apparently staffed by automatons that are only able to say, "You can find that information on the website," - which would be fine if I hadn't already looked on the website, which was woefully bereft of any kind of helpful information. Then there was my dentist, who would not release my x-rays and records on the grounds that "then the office won't have a copy", completely disregarding that new-fangled concept of photocopying. And let's not forget the utility company that attempted to hold me responsible for a delinquency from 12 years ago. In case you're wondering? The utility company supervisor could not possibly care less if you were living at the address at the time, or even in the same state, or if someone stole your identity, or if you have proof of all of the above, or even if Holy Mother of God, it was 12 years ago, are you kidding me? What he does care about is finding out that you work with two attorneys & are going to need his name in order to file a complaint. It's amazing how quickly that gets things cleared up. Oh, and did I mention that someone loosened / removed the lug nuts on my mom's tire? Luckily, the temperatures were well below zero over the past week and she wasn't been zipping around as much as usual (her last name should have been Andretti) before it was discovered. Otherwise . . . well, I'm trying not to think too much about what could have happened. Or about what kind of twisted person does something like that on purpose.

And, frankly, the Rolaids aren't helping, we're almost out of truffles*, I already packed my books & the liquor (I don't know what I was thinking either) & I've taken so many bubble baths, I look like a Shar-Pei puppy. I'm out of ideas, patience & fortitude. Do you think it would be possible to sleep through the rest of the month?

* Or as I refer to them, Chocolate Therapy. Unfortunately, Mary is rudely hoarding them for herself. Even more unfortunately, she needs them at least as much as I do. February is kicking everyone's ass.

Thoughts

• When are we going to close when are we going to close when are we going to close . . .


• We SHOULD HAVE closed last week, except for the Twin Asshats, also known as Jack "oops, I forgot all about you & did absolutely nothing with this file for the past month" Loan Officer & Jill (also not her real name), the Incompetent Appraiser.


• If Jill does not sign off on the (spurious) conditions she placed on the loan & which resulted in Chris & I spending last Saturday outside in the cold & snow, replacing the (perfectly good) ceiling on our patio (lest an errant child climb up there & ingest paint chips that have a .0001% chance of being toxic anyway), I will kill her myself.


• Holy run-on sentence, Batman. And when did I become addicted to parentheses?


• We will be spending every single cent we have in savings within the next few weeks, and will still need to sell a kidney, or one of my co-workers, on eBay to get this mess wrapped up.


• Wouldn't it be nice if I could sell one of my co-workers on eBay? Talk about a win-win.


• Even though we will have no money & I will not be able to buy anything pretty, or sparkly, or really anything at all (not even shoes!) for quite a long time, I will be happy to hand over every single cent we have just to be done with this already. Perhaps I have mentioned this once or twice or 500 times already.


• Probably I shouldn't buy anymore shoes any way.


• Four dozen pairs of shoes doesn't seem like a lot until you have to move them.


• It's amazing what you decide you can live without when you are faced with the prospect of moving it.


• Why did I buy a donut maker? Did I forget about the sheer heaven known as Krispy Kreme, the gloriousness of which I could never hope to duplicate? More importantly, how am I going to convince someone in my family to take the donut maker? Because I know that I won't be able to just throw it away (it's practically brand-new!) & yet it seems rather silly to move it (not like I'm going to use it in the new place either).


• Maybe I can wrap it up & regift it for someone's birthday. Then they have to take it. Hey, Anthony, act surprised when you unwrap your new donut maker!


• Speaking of surprises . . . our accountant (AKA my boss' wife, who does not in any way, shape or form have any kind of formal training in this area, or even the slightest bit of aptitude for this type of work but also doesn't charge by the hour the way the real accountant does) screwed up the amount of taxes withheld last year, which means that not only will I not be getting that little bit of extra money from the IRS (which, you may have guessed, we are in desperate need of right about now), but will actually OWE money. Perfect.


• I think I need a Mental Health Day. (No comments please re: how it is quite obviously too late for that.)


• I can't wait 'til I don't have to put up with my boss' inappropriate comments any more. Case in point: on Friday, he referred to the snowy conditions as "baby-making weather" & continued that there would be a lot of "pokin' going on" that night. No, I am not joking. Trust me when I tell you that my sense of humor is much more advanced than that. Please note that this is nowhere near the most inappropriate thing he has said to me. I believe that honor would go to the time he told me that he didn't like my tone (the phrase "little missy" implied but not actually spoken) & that (here's the good part, are you ready?) I needed to be spanked. !!!!!!!! Believe me, "inappropriate" doesn't even begin to cover it.


• Let's not think about it anymore & instead look at the pretty snow . . .
  
  

Pharmaceuticals Required

Poppy & Daffodil cancelled today's appointment too. I think Poppy has some issues.

Their new loan rep, who is quite honestly on his way to becoming one of My Favorite People in the World, told them that I may kill them if they don't get their shit together (he may have phrased it a bit differently), so supposedly Daffodil is dropping off the documentation needed to process their app by the end of the day.

Xanax, anyone?

More Waiting . . .

"If you are going through hell, keep going."
-Winston Churchill
The buyers (whom I have decided to call Poppy & Daffodil for reasons that would make sense to no one but me, but that I find infinitely amusing) were supposed to meet with their new financing rep on Monday. They called an hour before their appointment to cancel & insisted that they couldn't reschedule until today, Wednesday. Which is fine. 'Cause, you know, it's not like I'm dying a little bit inside as I wait to find out if the light at the end of the tunnel has been completely extinguished. Take your time! No rush! At this point, I'm pretty much used to insomnia, hives, heartburn & the complete deterioration of my stomach lining.

Somehow, I think Poppy & Daffodil are impervious to sarcasm, just as they reject nebulous concepts such as contract deadlines.

On a more serious note, I just want to clarify something. I know that, in the overall scheme of things, this is not The Worst Thing Ever. Believe me, I know. I had a brief but nightmarish & soul-sucking first marriage. My independent, amazing grandmother died after an agonizing battle with ALS. I was there when my brilliant & talented 25-year-old cousin succumbed to Hodgkin's disease. So, trust me, I have an acute awareness of what's really important. And if this is the worst thing that Chris & I face in our life together, we will be damn lucky. That said, right now the sale of our house is all that is standing between us & our future. Once it sells, I never have to speak to my ex-husband, or his incompetent attorney, again. I can find a job I love (or at least don't hate) that rewards me for my enthusiasm, knowledge & skills &, hey, maybe even offers medical insurance so I don't go into a deep panic every time either of us has the slightest ailment. Chris can experience the joys of a 20-minute commute & forget all about spending in excess of 60 hours per month just driving to & from his office. Not to mention saving the equivalent of the GNP of Burundi on gas. Plus we will be within 20 miles of IKEA and Sephora and Coach. (Not that I will have any money to shop, but that's hardly the point.)

And if that doesn't give you some indication of the Importance of this, nothing will.

Craptastic

Oh, Lord, ya'll. I don't even know where to start.

In a nutshell: there are some issues impeding the sale of our house. They're not especially large issues, but they are prickly. Without going into details which no one really wants to hear &, frankly, I don't feel like rehashing, the buyers were misled by their mortgage rep. (Let's call him Jack. I don't feel like typing out "Jackass" every time.) The problem isn't the buyers' ability to obtain financing or anything of that nature, just that the program that Jack recommended to them was ill-advised. Another problem is Jack should have known about these issues & addressed them weeks ago, but somehow forgot all about the file until I called to check in with him on Thursday morning. We went from "Yes, everything's fine, we should close on time. In fact, you reminded me that I need to call the buyers to get some paperwork from them" to "Um, yeah, remember how I said that everything was fine? What I meant was, I have some new hoops for you & the buyers to jump through" a few hours later. And by Friday afternoon, after I spent the rest of Thursday & all of Friday on the phone, trying desperately to fix this, he had pretty much decided that those hoops were now going to be 50 feet off the ground & on fire.

So.

Not sure exactly what is going to happen now. We spent the majority of the weekend packing & are going to assume that somehow, someway this will work out & this is just a bump in the (already pretty damn bumpy) road. I'm not sure what we are supposed to be learning from this latest serving of stress & frustration, but I will say that I am no longer concerned with the amount of money we have to take to closing. I will gladly hand over every single cent we have in savings just for this to end and for our lives to move forward. I believe this is what's known as "perspective". Also known as "nothing like life biting you in the ass for you to realize what's really important".

Tips

I am the only one who bothered to show up for work today. As a result, I have spent the better part of my morning answering the phone, which, as I have mentioned before, is never a good thing. However, this glimpse into the psyche of the Public At Large has induced me to share the following with you:

Tips for the Home-Buying Public

(& Others Who Have Irritated Me Today)

• If you call a business for information, it would seem wise to have a writing implement within arm's-reach, or at least within a quarter-mile radius. It is entirely possible that the Nice Lady who answers the phone may have another line or three ringing and may not be able to wait for FIVE FULL MINUTES for you to find a pen. Strangely, she also may not care that you are irritated about being put on hold.
• If you do not have a writing implement & decide to enter a phone number directly into your cell phone, perhaps you may want to warn the Nice Lady you are speaking with so that you do not permanently damage her middle ear with the 130-dB key strokes.
• Similarly, please turn off the television / radio / power tools before making a phone call. Not only is the background noise deafening, the Nice Lady on the other end of the phone does not particularly enjoy having you scream at the top of your lungs into her ear.
• When calling a real estate office, please try to have at least a general idea where the property you're calling about is located. Believe it or not, we have more than one property listed with our company. (Oh, yes, I have had clients actually say to me, "Oh, you have more than one listing?") It is very difficult to ascertain which property you are referring to based on "Um, yeah, it's a white house near where the Quik-E-Mart used to be."
• I understand that the Public At Large has a compulsive and pervasive need for Instant Gratification, and that you are, of course, The Most Important Person on the Face of the Earth. However. It might be prudent to make an appointment to view a property rather than calling the agency once you are already sitting in front of said property and being stunned that there isn't anyone available to show it Right This Very Second. I understand that waiting an hour for someone to clear their schedule and drive 40 miles out of their way for you is simply unthinkable. Obviously, we should have Realtors stationed at all 200+ properties, just in case an interested party should happen by. We apologize for our lack of foresight.
• If, for some reason, you do find yourself in front of a listed property and cannot wait for someone to show you the property, please do not cuss at the Nice Lady on the phone who will not give you the lockbox code so you can just let yourself in. That's what's known as a "no-no" in this business, as well as a huge insurance liability.
• Also, if you have received a notice that you are going to be evicted from your home, please do not call and cry to the Nice Lady at the real estate office that will eventually be listing the property. Neither she nor anyone else at the company has any control over the situation. And while she sympathizes with you and agrees that the timing is unfortunate, and she's sure that you fully intended to "get back on track" after the holidays, the fact remains that you have not paid your mortgage for the past 19 months, you have received innumerable notices from the bank that now owns your property and surely you could have guessed this was coming.
• "Ax" (or "axe", as you prefer) is a tool used for chopping wood, not a verb meaning "to question". Please make a note of it.
• By the same token, "I seen" is never, ever correct. The proper past tense conjugation of the verb "see" is as follows, repeat after me: I saw, you saw, he saw, we saw, they saw. Notice a pattern? Not that difficult, is it?
• If you call & ask to speak to the person in charge of, oh let's say insurance, and upon speaking to this person, do not get the response that you would have liked (i.e., thank you but we are quite happy with our coverage at this time and do not plan on switching to another provider), it will not help you to say, "Well, darlin' maybe I should speak to the man in charge." Because the Nice Lady will likely respond, "Maybe you should, but since the man 'in charge' does not, in fact, run the company, but I do, you have now guaranteed that we will never, ever use your company. Darlin'."
• And finally, Realtors, please do not think that because you have been in the real estate business 25 years that you can call another real estate office and demand information that it is inappropriate, unethical &, in some cases, downright illegal for you to have. The Nice Lady there does not care how long you have been a Realtor, although she is stunned that you still have your license.

By the way, "Nice Lady" is shorthand for "Formerly Nice Lady Who Is Now Disgusted and Weeping for the Public At Large".

In other news, I spoke to the Realtor who is (supposedly) selling our house. During the course of conversation, she remarked that she wished that this would close before the end of the year (just a few days away, in case you hadn't noticed). Since we still don't have a place to go once this does close, I was not very excited about that prospect. I wasn't too concerned about it though, since the appraisal hasn't even been scheduled yet. Good thing I didn't waste the time worrying. I just called the loan officer who is handling their mortgage to find out if we were on schedule for closing. He didn't even know what the contract closing date was since he never received a copy of the contract, which is required to schedule the appraisal and move forward with financing. AND the contract is in the wrong name, which pretty much makes it null and void anyway. So. Have I mentioned how much I love Realtors?

It IS a Christmas Miracle!

We have (cue drumroll, please) an accepted contract on our house! I have never been so relieved in all my life. Of course, this is still contingent on inspections, financing, yada yada yada & we still have to take an obscene amount of cash to closing & we have no idea where, exactly, we are going to live if it does actually sell . . . but I am totally ignoring those realities right now. Right now, it is enough that we have an accepted contract.

And, as if that wasn't enough excitement for one day, then I found this. Hee. But here's a tip: do not shave the Yeti* if there is a chance that a co-worker will stop by your office & witness you doing it. Especially if your co-workers already have reason to question your sanity. Yeti shaving is apparently not acceptable in mixed company.

* This is not a euphemism! Check out the link, & be sure to wait for the show after he's shaved. Again: hee. Have I mentioned I am easily amused?

Are You Fucking Kidding Me?

As in real life, I don't swear much on this blog. But sometimes, there are situations that call for it.

This is one of those times.

I just spent the last two fucking hours waiting for the damn phone to ring with some sort of news about our house. "What if they decide to keep looking? What if they decide they don't want to buy at all? What am I going to do if we don't get a contract? I will kill someone if I have to spend another year at this job . . . " and similarly helpful thoughts kept swirling through my mind. By 2 o'clock, my stomach was in knots, my head was throbbing & I was certain the deal had completely fallen apart. I was carrying my cell phone with me wherever I went, including the bathroom, where I threw up. Twice. I suppose I should be grateful the Realtor didn't call then. Or, at least, she should be.

When I finally did talk to her, approximately 15 minutes ago, she told me that, after rescheduling their appointment multiple times throughout the afternoon, her buyer finally called to tell her that "the cable guy is running late" & the appointment would have to be rescheduled for tomorrow.

So, yes, I get to repeat this little drama all over again tomorrow. Joy. I'm sure there is some lesson that I should be learning from this, like not to waste your time worrying about something that may or may not happen & that you have no control over anyway, or some such crap. But I swear to you, if anyone even thinks of suggesting such a thing to my face, I will vomit on them. Jesus, Mary & Joseph, won't this ever end*?

* Note to Mom: this is starting to seem like our excruciating, interminable trip to Connecticut. Minus the turbulence, buffalo farm and visits to the hospital. I suppose for that, at least, I should be grateful.

Still Waiting

It's 12:54 pm. The Realtor was meeting with her buyers at noon, supposedly for them to sign the paperwork. Somewhere, strangers are sitting around a table with our future in their hands. I am dying a little bit every second. Please please please buy our house . . .

How Little It Takes to Make Me Happy

Considering the fact that I STILL don't know what the hell is going on with my house, it has been a surprisingly delightful day. (Continued as a list because lists make me happy &, as I keep telling you, it's All About Me.)

• As soon as I got to work, I was pulled into a pointless meeting with my boss & one of my co-workers, which basically involved sitting in a comfy wing chair, nodding & adding the occasional "mm-hmm" & "absolutely", & which allowed me to mentally compile a list of everything I need to do this weekend & completely avoid any kind of actual work for well over an hour.
• Then I had an even more pointless, but infinitely more entertaining, conversation with my friends from the non-profit organization downstairs about Dr. 90210, Britney Spears & the state of Tori Spelling's breasts. (Oooh, there'll be some interesting hits on the stat counter from that phrase!)
• Co-worker Karen practically kissed the UPS guy, who delivered a huge Harry & David gift basket this morning. Of course we had to eat a few of the Bing Cherry Chocolates right away. You know, in case they were, um, stale or something. Okay, I don't recall the exact reason, but I'm sure there was one. (Other than "no willpower".)
• Oh, and then - and this is like the Best. Thing. Ever. - I was instructed by my boss to spend the rest of the morning shopping online with his credit card. !!!!! It's like a dream! A happy, sparkly shopping dream! Well, in the dream, I'm sure I would be shopping for myself, or at least people that I actually like. Instead, I was buying Christmas gifts for various work associates, which isn't nearly as much fun. But still! Getting paid to shop & using someone else's money? Pretty much my dream job. God knows I've been training for it my whole life.
• I also went to lunch with my mom & my aunt, two of my most favorite people in the world. Impromptu lunches like this will be one of the few things I truly miss if we ever move. Plus I had smashed yukon gold potatoes, which were scrumptious.
• When I came back from lunch, a package from Sephora was waiting for me. Woo hoo! I love love LOVE receiving stuff in the mail, & I am a hard core product junkie, so this was very exciting. Especially since, if we do sell our house, we will officially be poor, so trips to Sephora will be few & far between.

The Realtor is meeting with the prospective buyers tomorrow at noon. So, hopefully, by this time tomorrow, we will have an accepted purchase agreement on our house. We will still have to take an obscene amount of money to closing, but I have decided to look at it as an investment in our future. If this is what it takes to move past this & start the next phase of our lives, it will be money well spent. Besides, my stomach can't take any more of this indecision. Just a few more hours . . .

Waiting

This is the seventh day of negotiations pertaining to the sale of our house. We still do not have an accepted contract. The buyers refuse to come up on their offer & cannot seem to understand why we are therefore unable to give them every little thing their heart desires, such as appliances, custom-made window treatments, custom-cut mirrors & a home warranty. You would think that it would be enough that they're buying the house for over $10,000 less than the appraised value, but apparently not.

So here we are. Waiting. "Anxiety" doesn't even begin to cover it. I have consumed copious amounts of chocolate & wine & taken innumerable bubble baths, & I just ended up sort of nauseous & distinctly shriveled. So I've completely given up & am now just taking showers & popping Tums. (To be quite honest, I don't think Tums actually help to control the vats of acid churning up from my stomach, but I have consumed so much calcium in the past week, it's probably virtually impossible for me to break a bone.) On the plus side, I think I have actually lost weight in the past week. Yippee. I'm too miserable to even care. The people who have advised me not to get completely stressed out over this neglected to mention exactly how I was supposed to accomplish it. I am open to suggestions.

A Christmas Miracle (sort of)

I spent all of Monday channeling my inner twelve-year-old, willing my phone to ring, only to have my hopes destroyed when it wasn't who I wanted it to be. (Looking back on it, I can't even remember who my twelve-year-old self could have been waiting for. Mary, do you remember? Who was The One in seventh grade? Fortunately, by the end of high school, I became smart enough to discontinue the whole waiting-by-the-phone thing. Honestly, what the hell was I waiting for?) ANYWAY, the Realtor finally called yesterday to set up a second showing for this afternoon. And, after spending nearly an hour in the house with the Realtor, her prospective buyer and his dad - bribing them with chocolates & freshly-baked chocolate chip cookies, I might add - we have an offer. Oh yes, you read that right, AN OFFER!

Except . . .

(Oh come on, you knew that was coming.)

It is a low offer. Very low. Not as low as the ones we've had from investors that just want to flip it, but still very, very low. The house is already listed for less than what I paid for it, and ultimately, we'll end up losing about $20,000 if we accept this offer. And that thought, quite literally, makes me nauseous. So I'm going to figure out exactly how much money we'd have to take to closing to get out of this & then I'm going to stop thinking. I'm going to go home & watch Without a Trace reruns, eat something incredibly bad for me & drink some of the wine we bought over the weekend. And I guess a looooong bubble bath couldn't hurt. And maybe after that I will feel better equipped to make this decision. Or maybe I'll just feel drunk & pruney & even more nauseous. At least I have a plan.

Hallelujah

They love it. Thank God & St. Joseph, they LOVE it. I left the house for 40 minutes, & when I came back, the Realtor and the buyers were just sitting in the dining room, "soaking up the love". Yeah, I don't know what that means either but THEY LOVE IT. The Realtor told me to expect an offer some time on Monday or Tuesday, after they meet with their loan officer. It's going to be a loooooong weekend.

Real Estate Update

The very first thing I am going to do if I ever win the lottery (which I don't play, but that's neither here nor there) is hire a maid. Well, after I quit my job, of course. And buy a Kennedy-esque compound by the ocean for my friends & family to stay in. And visit Tiffany. And Coach. But after that . . . definitely a maid. We spent six hours cleaning Tuesday night. Poor Chris returned home after five days out of town and was greeted with "take all of your crap right up to the attic" & then had a mop thrust into his hand. Kisses! Love you! So we cleaned and cleaned and cleaned. And cleaned. And then we cleaned some more. I swiffered and scrubbed and forbid the cats from using their litter boxes. I dusted the plants. I cleaned so hard, I somehow managed to twist my ankle while vacuuming. No, really.

And, according to the Realtor and prospective buyers, it was worth it. The house, they said, is gorgeous. They used words like "immaculate" and "well-kept" and "beautiful". I can't imagine why it hasn't sold, the Realtor said. We love it, the buyers said.

Except . . .

Why why WHY is there always an "except"? This time, the buyers are concerned about the roof, which, although it does not leak, will probably need replaced within 5 years or so. (Per a certified home inspector.) As any homeowner knows, ANY home you buy will need something major repaired or replaced within the first few years after purchase. And in our price range, the chance of finding a home that doesn't need some kind of work done to it is slim or none. Which will hopefully become apparent to these buyers as they continue to view homes.

So a bit of a disappointment, but we have another showing scheduled for tomorrow. This one is with people who have ACTUAL MONEY, or so I've been told. And, remarkably, I am still strangely optimistic. If you know me IRL (which would be all four of you that actually read this), you know that optimism is not a natural state of mind for me. To say the least. Maybe my subconcious or a higher power is trying to tell me something. Maybe poor St. Joseph, currently buried upside down in my back yard, wants to be dug up before the snow falls. Maybe it's the influence of the Christmas season or the Christmas wine. Maybe Chris has finally given up & is now lacing my Earl Grey with Zoloft. Either way, I am doing my best to just enjoy this newfound state of enlightenment. I am still enough of a pragmatist to know that this feeling cannot possibly last.

Hope Springs Eternal

That Alexander Pope sure knew what he was talking about.

I just scheduled a showing on our house for Wednesday. In case I haven't mentioned it before (you wish), it has been on the market for 333 days. We've had roughly 902 showings, approximately two of those to people with the ability & intention of actually purchasing a property. So you would think that I'd be rather jaded at this point, wouldn't you? That's apparently because you are a normal person. Unlike me. Because I am all excited about this damn showing & sure that this one will be The One, the showing that brings us a viable offer. Be assured that this feeling of optimism is in no way based on any kind of fact. The prospective buyers haven't even been preapproved and may need to sell their present home to buy ours. And the Realtor showing it is, well, questionable. (Which sounds so much better than shady-as-hell.) Of course you know that if he manages to sell our house, he will be my Most Favorite Person in the Whole Wide World.

Now I have to go so I can figure out where to put the colossal amount of Christmas-related paraphernalia (presents, boxes, wrapping paper, etc.) currently residing in our computer room. Think happy thoughts for us!

Yes, I Know I Need Therapy

One of my blog friends (if by "friend" you mean someone that you don't actually know & have never met but for some strange reason know intimate details about their personal lives) mentioned that when she's feeling anxious, she calms herself by playing the worst case scenario game. You know, think "what's the worst thing that could happen?" in any given situation & then figure out how you would handle it. I suppose the rationalization is that if you have a plan, it makes you feel more in control of an uncontrollable situation. Or maybe that the "worst thing" isn't all that bad after all. Or something.

It's entirely possible that this helps some people.

Note: some people = not me.

My imagination & capacity for worry are utterly limitless and my worst case scenarios often involve death, dismemberment & financial ruin. My imaginary plans for dealing with these scenarios often involve curling up in the fetal position & hoping it all goes away. (I am a big fan of the Scarlett O'Hara "tomorrow is another day" school of thought.) So, not all that helpful as a planning tool / coping mechanism. That doesn't keep me from playing this game religiously, normally right before I go to sleep at night. Thus ensuring that not only do I have an ulcer, I also have chronic insomnia.

When we put our house on the market (dear God, 305 days ago. three. hundred. and. five. *whimper*), I played the game endlessly. My major concerns were:

• we won't be able to find a house within 30 days of receiving a contract on our house and therefore will be homeless once our house is sold.
• we won't be able to find a house we can afford in a neighborhood that doesn't make me want to weep or buy a bulletproof vest.
• we will find a house that we love in a nice area but it will cost more than the GNP of Belgium.
• we will buy said house anyway because otherwise we will be homeless or living in the ghetto. (Cue Elvis: ". . . in the ghetto . . .")
• we will have to eat ramen and sell plasma in order to pay our mortgage.
• we will have to work 24 hours a day, 7 days a week to pay our mortgage.
• I won't be able to find a job before we move and will have to sell extraneous body parts (are both kidneys really necessary?) to pay our mortgage.
• I will find a job that's just as bad as the one I have now & I won't be able to quit (see: GNP of Belgium).
• we will never be able to have children because I won't be able to take any time off to actually give birth or afford child care afterwards (see: GNP of Belgium).
• we won't be able to find people to help us move.
• we will hire a moving company that will either lose all of our belongings or hold everything we own hostage unless we pay some exorbitant sum that was never mentioned in the contract (it happens, I saw it on Dateline).
• we will find a house that we can afford in a good neighborhood, everything will be perfect & then the buyers won't be able to close but we'll have already closed on the new house & we'll end up with two mortgages that we can't pay . . . (start GNP of Belgium cycle again).
• and on & on & on, until I finally put myself to sleep by naming everything in the room in French. What, you don't do that too?

Notice anything missing from that neurotic yet seemingly comprehensive list? Oh, yeah, that we wouldn't be able to sell the house. At all. Ever. No matter how low we dropped the price (already below the appraised & assessed values, at a significant loss to us) or what we offered (home warranty, inspection, chocolate chip cookies baked fresh for you every week for a year just please please please buy our house!) to make it more attractive to buyers.

So here we are, probably about a month or two away from being hauled back to court by The World's Stupidest Ex-Husband. (Scintillating backstory here.) The worst case scenarios (weeding out the ones that involve death & dismemberment) include being told that a.) we have to relist the house with another agency, which means that we will end up owing even more money if it ever actually sells or b.) the house will be listed for sheriff's auction, whereupon we could end up owing as much as $60,000 and yet having nowhere to live. The best case scenario is that the magistrate will take pity on us (& believe me, I am not above crying in court) and allow us to continue to try to sell the house with my company. Considering the condition of the market, this could continue indefinitely. This would also mean that I would have to continue working at this job, Chris would spend at least 3 hours a day commuting and one of us will eventually spontaneously explode. You can see how there are a few flaws with this option.

I really, really, REALLY try to keep this all in perspective. Chris and I are together; other than this mess, we are happy; we love each other; we're healthy; our families are healthy. I know that if this is the worst thing that ever happens to us, we are amazingly lucky. It's even possible that someday we will look back at this time and laugh. Well, maybe not laugh, but at least it will be in the past & we will have gotten through it. All of which is true but doesn't make the situation any less difficult or frustrating right now. Especially when I have to go home tonight & unpack several boxes of winter clothes that I packed last April in preparation for our impending move. *sigh*

Cancelled

We were supposed to have a showing on our house today. It was cancelled because the buyer . . . well, she has issues. The first, & most important, one is that she is looking for something similar to her current house & neighborhood, but for about $200,000 less than her current mortgage. You can see how that might be a problem. There's no way she's going to be happy with our 1,800 sq. ft. Century home in a regular residential neighborhood when she's coming from a 3,000 sq. ft. 10-year-old luxury home in an exclusive development. Did I mention that her house (that she would have to sell to buy anything else) has been on the market for nearly 2 years? She has only had one interested prospect because she allows her dogs to poop in her house & then doesn't bother to clean it up. And the one couple that expressed some interest? She refused to even consider selling it to them because they're black. So . . . yeah. Issues.

Natural woodwork! Pocket doors! Oak mantle! Ceramic tile hearth!
Flooded with natural light! Don't you want to live here??

I am so frustrated & disappointed right now. Amazing that I can still be optimistic about a showing, but obviously I can, because I was so upset when it was cancelled. (Somewhat less so when I found out who the prospect was; that would have been an utter waste of Swiffering.) Right after I found out that it was cancelled, a co-worker walked by and said, giggling, "You mean your house hasn't sold yet?"

And then I killed her.

You don't think I overreacted, do you?

Blah

Do you think the sun is ever going to come back out? If I am this lethargic & moody after a few rainy, overcast days, I can only imagine how much fun I'm going to be by January. Amongst other things, I am hating:

• my co-workers. I have colleagues that are unable to find a file, decipher a contract, download photos or access their voice mail without assistance. The worst part is that they truly have no desire to be self-sufficient. Apparently, it is much more efficient to stand around & ineffectually whine about it until someone (namely, me) breaks down & does it for you. I am getting MUCH better at ignoring the whining. Good practice for future parenting, I think.
• my job. Well, duh.
• real estate. This morning, I spoke to the Realtor that showed our house at the beginning of the month. He literally spent 10 minutes telling me how "beautiful" & "immaculate" the house is & how "amazed" he is that it hasn't sold yet. Welcome to my world, Troy. Unfortunately, his buyers have to sell their home in Maryland & find jobs here before they would be willing to make an offer. (I don't know why they are looking now when neither of those goals has been accomplished, but then there are lots of things I don't understand.)
• being tired. I feel like I can't even focus, I am so exhausted. I can't wait to go home, collapse on the bed & sleeeeeeep.
• laundry. The same basket of laundry has been sitting in my bathroom for three days. I know, all of the moms out there are laughing hysterically right now. One basket? Just three days? When there are only two people in your household, & one of them is me (read: neurotic), that's a lot. The thought of hauling it downstairs, washing it, drying it, folding it & putting it away . . . see #4.
• dinner. Do other people find it this difficult to decide what to cook every day? It was much easier when I was single & could happily eat a fudgsicle or Cheerios for dinner. Chris is funny about wanting, you know, food in his food.
• NBC. The bastards canceled West Wing last year & I still haven't gotten over it.
• The Shrub. If he wasn't the President, I would find his cluelessness & complete denial of reality tremendously amusing. Unfortunately, he is the President. For another 859 days.
• the holidays. Preemptively. Already looking forward to Christmas, which Chris & I will spend sleep-deprived, punch-drunk & mostly in the car.
• & my hair. Humidity is not my friend.

It appears that my happy-go-lucky attitude has not deterred a new cat from trying to adopt us. Cat showed up on Sunday evening & has not left our back patio since. Oh, did I mention that we're feeding it? And that I put a fuzzy blanket on the chaise so it would be more comfy? Yeah, that might have something to do with it. Fortunately, Chris found a no-kill shelter near his office that will accept her so I can stop feeling inordinately guilty about someone else's cat. (By the way, Cat seems perfectly happy with the way things are. We supply her with food, water, a snuggly bed, twice-a-day attention & the freedom to come & go as she pleases. Bijou & Lemieux probably dream of the same.)

In any case, The Weather Channel is predicting sunshine this weekend, Oprah's new season starts & the Steelers play on Monday & the new Rolling Stone has Justin Timberlake on the cover - things are looking up!

Thank God for the Three Day Weekend!

At about 11 am today, I found out that one of today's advertising deadlines was moved up to YESTERDAY. Um, yeah, see, I left my psychic powers at home AGAIN, so I didn't actually know about this, and I forgot my time-reversal powers as well, so just how in the hell am I supposed to submit these pages?? Our rep grudgingly said I could submit them today (I would probably feel a bit more grateful if it hadn't been her responsibility to tell me about the change in the first place) , but it had to be done by noon, when I originally had until 11:59pm tonight. No one was allowed to talk to me this morning.

Then the MLS spontaneously & mysteriously shut down for the afternoon. Which was right about the time that a client called & told me he wanted to buy one of our listings and was willing to pay full price and where should he bring the money? As much as I would enjoy just looking at $75,000 in cash, I had to explain to him that there were a few legalities that needed to be observed, such as, oh, I don't know, executing a purchase agreement, and even then he was absolutely, positively, not going to bring $75,000 in cash to my office in a brown paper bag. And did I mention that he calls himself Sir Richard?

We have another showing on our house tomorrow, FINALLY. After 2 full months with no pending sales in our area & price range, hopefully this is a sign that the real estate market moving again. And I just cleaned the house on Wednesday, so I don't have to rush home & clean like my life depends on it. Which, in a sad & twisted way, I guess it does. Although since the basic cleaning has been done, it leaves me free to focus on the Really Important cleaning jobs like vacuuming the basement & organizing the linen cabinet. Sure, because most people base their homebuying decisions on things like basement cleanliness & cabinet orderliness.

After the showing, we're off to Detroit. Yes, you read that correctly, I said Detroit. Don't be jealous. I'll let you know if it's as fabulous as everyone says it is . . .

Edited to add: Comerica Park was amazing & the Zoo was one of the nicest we've visited. I might not want to live there (don't be offended, I don't want to live here either), but it definitely didn't seem to be the crime-infested cesspool that many had led me to expect. And I'm refering to Detroit residents! Might be time to take another look.

Weekend Ramblings

To celebrate Chris' birthday & continue his mini-tour of MLB ballparks, we went to the Indians game on Friday. Although PNC Park is still my favorite, Jacobs Field was nice too, & they had fabulous fireworks after the game. I did not enjoy the ridiculous amounts of traffic on 480. Oh, and could someone please explain to me why exit 23 comes between exits 26 & 30? The game itself was fairly uneventful until Choo (whose first name is unfortunately not Jimmy & can you believe my husband has never heard of Jimmy Choo shoes?) hit a homerun in the 6th inning. Then it went right back to being uneventful. As a result, we were able to take a stalker-worthy amount of photos of Seattle's Ichiro Suzuki. I was hoping that the Jake would have some kind of food that's unique to Cleveland, like Pittsburgh has Primanti's, but it was the same old stuff. Although they did have sushi. Does anyone eat sushi at a ball game? No one in Cleveland, I can tell you that much. They had one poor guy working at the sushi stand & I swear he was asleep.

On Saturday, I went shopping while Chris went to take some photos for work. (Mary, I found your Christmas present! That doesn't mean that it won't be sent in January, but I should at least get points for buying it early!) Later, we wandered through a classic car show. I don't want to offend anyone, but 1988 Iroc Z28 is not, I repeat NOT, a classic car. Not even if you wear your best acid wash jeans & listen to Whitesnake when you drive it.

Sunday afternoon, we went to the farmer's market to buy healthy stuff & eat crap. Somehow I think that buying fresh fruits & vegetables compensates for eating something greasy & fattening. Then I washed BOTH cars (I know! I should get an award or something!) and did yard work. I hate yard work. I swear I'm allergic to it. Every time I do yard work, I end up with some kind of rash. Literally. But Chris made wonderful pulled pork / BBQ burgers (I love me some Sweet Baby Ray!) for dinner, and I had ice cream afterwards, so all in all, a good day. Plus, so far, no rash!

No prospects from the showing, by the way. The buyer was unavailable, so the Realtor came to preview the property for him. After going through the entire house & telling me all the things her client would love about it, she ended with: "I can tell you now that the shared driveway will be an issue with him. The last house we went to with a shared driveway, he wouldn't even get out of the car." While we do have a shared driveway, it also has two additional points of ingress/egress from the back of the property. However, I understand that everyone has their "non-negotiables". What I don't understand is why, as a Realtor, you would bother to show a client a property that you already know they are not going to consider. The MLS listing clearly indicates that it has a shared driveway. Grrrrrr.

Currently reading: August issue of O, The Oprah Magazine & The Burning of Bridget Cleary by Angela Bourke

Currently listening to: Al Green's Greatest Hits