My very dark eyebags and I are pleased to report that we have a house. Okay, a townhouse. Okay, a contract on a townhouse. Okay, everything could still possibly go to fucking hell and back, but didn't the first sentence sound better and way less neurotic?
I did not get my dancing monkey, but I did get four toilets, which is a downright decadent ratio of bathrooms-to-bladders, and of course no one will be allowed to use at least two or three of them because Jesus Christ, you think I am scrubbing four damn toilets on a regular basis? But still, is a very nice little house with a nice little yard. I love it to pieces. Except for the carpet. I really hate the carpet. Am going to think about all my closet space instead.
Okay. Now I have to start packing, and freaking out about the home inspections on Monday, and then work on some entries in which I complain some more about how much I hate my new carpet.