Nothing is certain but death and taxes
It's been such a lousy week. We have been planning since May or so to move, and there have been the most unbelievable ups and downs associated with this decision. Just at the point when we were ready to give up and take our house off the market (someday it will be funny that we tried to sell our house during the worst housing slump in decades), the woman whose house we had been planning to buy made an offer on *our* house. So all these galloping plans have been put into place, and loan applications sent in, fees paid, inspections done, contracts written up, appraisals made, packing started...
...and today we found out some crummy news that is possibly going to wreck the whole deal. Trouble is, we won't know for certain until next week. Our closing was tentatively set for November 2, contingent upon whether we can get past the giant bump in the road that came up today.
Maybe this wouldn't be so stressful if I weren't almost 8 months pregnant. I don't know. To not know, at this point in my pregnancy, where I am going to be living when I bring my child home from the hospital, is...bleh. There aren't really words to describe how all this has thrown me. My nesting instinct is pretty much shredding itself to bits in my head right now.
In other news, my grandmother was on her deathbed last week but made a miraculous recovery, my pregant cousin had her appendix burst a few days ago, my aunt found out this week that she has breast cancer, my husband got put on a different shift at work, and we found out our insurance provider will be changing on the first of the year.
Not to mention my job, which seems to be doing its best lately to bring me to the point of utter and complete mental exhaustion.
I'm sure this will look better in the morning. At 5:35 a.m. though, it's not so good.
I'm putting up this old, cold picture because before I woke up an hour and a half ago, I was dreaming about sitting in my parents' kitchen and looking out the window at falling snow.
Must. Stay. Positive.