Stop the music please.

I’ve had enough of this twisted little game of musical houses. Between hurried decisions to place offers on houses that almost felt right and offers on our own slice of heaven that keep falling through cracks of disappointment, we came to the end of our rope last night. Calling our dedicated realtor to say we were taking our house was off the market wasn’t easy, in fact it sucked rotten potatoes. In the end you’ve always got to do what’s best for yourself, but knowing what she’s gone through for us was cause for a twinge of guilt. It’s not her fault The Big Jerk my husband’s CEO decided to yank the rug out from under our feet at the last minute. It’s not her fault remodeling our existing house costs less than buying another one of her beautiful four bedroom castles. It is what it is. I’m sure the arrangement of white roses and thank you note is little consolation.

So we turn the page in our Life Story and begin writing the next chapter entitled Get Out the Backhoe Cowboy, Mr. Contractor’s Digging a Giant Hole in the Backyard. Wheeeee! I can’t help but be excited after all we’ve been through in the past week, and even better, my face is starting to clear up. Granted I’ve been drunk before dessert most nights this past week, and I’ve almost certainly consumed more alcohol in the past few days than I have in three consecutive New Year’s Eves, but the warm fuzzies helped to dwarf the ringing in my ears and the constant looping of worry and unknowing in my brain. But tonight I put down the bottle of pinot grigio and relax because it’s all good. School will commence as scheduled, we maintain our four year’s worth of equity and we get to play a game of giant legos with the home we already love. Of course I’ll be singing a slightly different tune come November when the hammers won’t cease and the baby can’t nap. Sky lights, whirlpools and heated floors oh my!