Can you believe it? It's been 8 years since Y2K. It feels like just yesterday I was sitting on the couch, panicking that I didn't have a purse full of cash to cover a month of expenses (remember?). There sat Steve, all calm and irritatingly practical. There I was...defcon five, full steam ahead melodramatic.
Yes, it pisses me off when he's right. I would rather have waited in line for my government cheese than have the clock turn to 12:00am without so much as a blown fuse.
Dammit.
So, anyway. Here we are in the New Year. As my mom and dad so aptly put it, we've scraped 2007 off the bottom of our shoes and we are poised for great things, great health and even greater love. It is a New year indeed
I should work for Hallmark.
So, where are we now? We've officially signed our listing agreement and have the FOR SALE sign tucked away in the garage, ready for the unveiling on Friday morning. Our first open house will be Sunday, and we fully expect a bidding war by 4pm sharp.
Please, sweet mother of all things good, let there be a bidding war...even just a little one ("do I hear fifty cents?").
The kids go back to school tomorrow after entirely too much time off. I wish I could say I'll finally be able to put my feet up, but my boss is expecting me to use my phone talents to their potential (he, apparently, has no concern for my house selling/buying inconveniences...so I will stop feeling guilty that I didn't send him a Christmas card).
And I believe that brings us up to date.
Oh, except for one other small detail no one mentioned when we set out on the relocation adventure.
Stinky food.
As in preparing stinky food. As in lingering stink from stinky food. As in not a good idea.
We can usually count on having fish at least once a week, with steamed broccoli or cauliflower somewhere around that frequency, too. Sauted onions and garlic are a staple, as is twice monthly chicken French (think fried and odorific).
We have already eaten more pasta than I care for and as much as we love Eggs Benedict, I can't serve it every night.
Do you see where this is going?
More stress. More crankiness.
Please send house selling mojo our way asap.
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