Cautious Optimism

The perfect family looked at my house yesterday. Young, urban hipsters with a two-year-old child, living in a small house nearby, looking for more space. Pre-approved. Familiar with the neighborhood. They loved the house. If they don't buy the house, it's time to give it up and acknowledge that no one is going to be buying the house right now.

And so that is the plan, the acknowledging that the time may not be right for us to make our big move. We've lowered the price, we're bombarding Craigslist and Zillow with our ad, keeping our flyer box full, St. Joseph is perched on our mantle. And on November 30, if we have not received any offers, we're taking down the sign, pulling the MLS listing and unpacking the boxes in the garage (you know, the ones where I so optimistically hid all of our winter stuff in July, when I was sure my house would be sold in two weeks, max).

This FSBO business? Is hard work. Keeping the house *ready to show* at all times? Is a full time job. And my housekeeping skills? Are sketchy, at best. All in all, not a winning combination, wherein *not* = EPIC FAIL.

My holiday funk is setting in. I want to move. I don't want to move. I want to unpack my stuff. I don't want to unpack my stuff and kind of want to light the boxes on fire. I want to go to New Orleans. I don't want to go to travel. I miss my mom. I miss my big kids. I need to be busier with work. I can't handle working more than I do now. My pain in the ass cats are making me insane. I want to get back into a good running routine. I hate to run. I need a good night's sleep. My brain hurts.

Oy.

Cross your fingers. Cross your toes. Cross your eyes. Say a prayer. Send positive energy. Whatever is that you *do,* please do it now. I'm not exactly sure *what* I'm wishing/praying/hoping for. But something needs to happen.