We discussed chattels. Commission. Price.
I was totally fine. I signed confidently.
And then Scott came in and said, "Hey, look at the front lawn..."
And I saw this:
And it should have said: "FOR SALE: ONE HEART"
And I felt a swell of panic.
And a little off balance.
But then I hitched my belt and tally-ho, let's get this place sold!
So here's to a stressful, undetermined amount of time of loosing my mind trying to keep things clean, vacating at the drop of a hat for the weird strangers who are going to peek in my closets, "Liam, why, oh why, can't you just PICK UP YOUR SOCKS???!!!", and general craziness that will leave me with grey hair and bleary eyes.
And if it turns out that the grass isn't greener on the other side - that dream we've built up in our heads - I swear to high heaven, I'll scream so loud and so long and so high that the one-eyed-man will have to chase his one good eye all the way down Queen Street because my rant will pop it right out of his skull!
What? No. I'm not stressed.
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