I lied. And I’m tired of locating things.

July 19, 2010

This was supposed to be a happy post. Last time I said I needed to do one of those. Oh well. It’s my blog and I’m feeling anything but cheerful. I’m not unhappy – just overwhelmed and frustrated.

I feel like running outside and screaming into a vast space where no one can hear me and think, “Good heavens, is someone being murdered? Is there a cat being run over?”

Only I can’t do that. So I blog. Now that you’ve all clicked off the page in search of happier, more exciting posts, I will pour out my thoughts on here:

This house needs to sell.

Why in the world do we have 4 cats?

I don’t want to live in an apartment, which is great, because with 4 cats the chances of that are pretty slim.

So are the chances of renting someone’s home. Imagine trying to explain how many cats you have, “but it’ll be great!” No.

We talk many times a day about just both quitting our jobs, going on welfare, letting everyone else pay for all our stuff, having tons of babies for free, and laughing about it. Must be nice. (Never. Never would we do that.)

I don’t want to pack. Or unpack.

I have head explosions. Multiple times a day. Especially when I clean the entire house for a showing and they’re not interested.

I can’t believe I made a really great friend right before moving after 3 years of no friends here.

Our credit is going to be ruined and there is nothing I can do about it.

Alan Greenspan is on my hit list for what he did to the economy.

Also on my hit list? Our realtor. Hello? It’s been 2 months since we’ve heard from you. Yes, we’re short selling but it doesn’t mean we aren’t people in need of help selling a home.

My husband is currently looking for his sandals that he constantly misplaces and blames it on me. And guess who is being asked repeatedly where the sandals are right now? I don’t know. Don’t take them off in odd places.

I’m going to look for them…

OMG.

They are in the closet. I didn’t put them there, yet I am being blamed for placing them in the closet where he was unable to locate them. Because apparently, our closet is also some form of a black hole that consumes sandals.

::writes on hit list::

Crossing my fingers tomorrow is a much better day. In fact, someone took a flyer of our home today so maybe, just maybe, we’ll have a house showing.

::runs off to hide second pair of sandals for a little pick-me-up::

6 Comments

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    July 19, 2010 at 10:40 am

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  • Mandy

    July 19, 2010 at 10:12 am

    Thinking of you. I love ya. Hang in there. It is going to work out 🙂

  • Sarah

    July 19, 2010 at 10:01 am

    Hang in there! It has to get better. It really does! : /

  • Lisa

    July 19, 2010 at 9:08 am

    Somedays I feel like all I do is find things. Where are the towels? Where are my socks? My belt? Did you see the dog’s leash? OMG you have lived in this (very tiny) house just as long as me! why? why? can you not retain where anything is kept?
    Just sayin’
    Feel better girl.

  • Anne @ A JD + Three

    July 19, 2010 at 7:19 am

    Moving has to be one of the most stressful things ever even under ideal circumstances. Toss in the MUST move scenario, an infant, a short sale and four cats makes it highly, highly stressful (that is an understatement).

    I’m okay with the lack of puppies & rainbows…you aren’t there right now 🙂 I will send selling vibes your way!!

  • Jess@Straight Talk

    July 19, 2010 at 7:16 am

    Sorry girl! Trust me, been there, done that, had a shitty realtor. Only it took us OVER A YEAR to realize how crap she was. And within a couple of months of having our bad ass realtor? We were under contract. Our 1st ho (wait did I say that?) of a realtor didn’t go to our house for 2 months in the summer (despite saying she was popping in). So when she finally showed up for an open house she realized the air was broken and had been running non stop. I COULD HAVE TOLD HER THAT. The electric bill for our house we didn’t live in was $225! I was irate.

    Anyway……..yeah the welfare thing. UGH. Damn. Hang in there. Um and move to Texas.

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