Wouldn't it be hilarious

if, after almost six months of being on the market, our house finally sells? And how amusing would it be if we signed a broker agreement with a realtor in the Prospective New Town so we can look at five new homes? And how funny would it be if, on the day that we accept an offer, my husband’s CEO unexpectedly shoves a giant poker stuffed with hot coals and a message reading “actually, you can’t move four hours south and work from home like we’ve been telling you for almost a year, and if you do then you really don’t have a future with this company” up his butt? I can’t imagine this getting any more comical, can you? Well, deciding to continue selling our house and having only three weeks to find another one around here is still pretty funny, right? I get a fuzzy little chuckle when I think of dragging my three tired children around to look at house after house. The one that smelled like ferret piss was, by far, the funniest. I snicker even more when I think of that call we made to our realtor saying we’ve decided on the beautiful ranch located at 106 Sucker Lane, so here’s our offer. But you know what splits my sides the most? Rolling on the floor with uncontrollable gagging fits of laughter when our realtor calls us back to tell us the sale of our house just fell through. Yeah, that’s the really funny part.

Kids? To bed.

Alcohol? Down my gullet.