On pins and needles

I made an offer on the house yesterday. So here I sit. Waiting. My realtor called me last night to ask about some details of the deal (Who would replace the bathroom faucet, specifically), but we are waiting for the seller and his wife to confer on the offer.

I am not good at waiting. I don't think I slept at all last night, and I have a huge knot between my shoulder blades. I can't eat. My realtor thinks I should hear about it today sometime. I certainly hope so. This is driving me insane. If they accept the offer, I have to scramble around and get all sorts of stuff in order before the proposed closing date, which is the 20th of July. I feel like a race horse at the starting gate. I'm chomping at my figurative bit.

I wish there were anything else in my world to report, but there isn't. I have been a complete shut-down freak since yesterday, unable to come up with any seperate thoughts. For probably the first time in my whole life I turned down sex last night. (Rather rudely, actually). I have been snappy and impatient and tired and cranky and two times I have been impolite to family members in the last 24 hours! What is wrong with me? Roomie says that buying a house is considered one of the three most stressful things in life. (The other two are marriage and childbirth). I really didn't think it was all that important, but the whole process is designed in such a way that it feels like a great big ritual, and if I perform one single step incorrectly, the whole thing goes to pot, the angry gods are not pleased, and the giant fireball starts hurtling towards earth.

It can't be that big a deal. I can find other houses. Geez.

I wish she would call, though.