Stream of (Semi) Consciousness: The Humiliating
I am totally stressed about selling this house. What if nobody buys it? What if we're stuck here?
What if we're trapped and poor without equity and Chris loses his job and ends up selling fruit at intersections and I'm here for YEARS and start petting out-of-towners at gas stations while fervently whispering "Tell me what's it's like out there? Tell me please. Has it changed much? Are there still those things called malls? And places called Whole Foods where people don't balk at not spendin no four dollars on whole grains when I gots me some Wonder bread right here for ninety-nine cents! Please take me with you Lady Not Wearing A Scrunchie. I can be very quiet and useful. Take me to where they don't eat SPAM. You smell so goood."
Seriously. What IF?
Our house has been listed for one month today for a whole lot less than it was listed for six months ago and about $40,000 less than our exact house sold for around the corner a year ago. $40,000 less.
And today? After the br*ker tour? Our realt*r called to tell us that while all the realt*rs who toured our house found it "cute as a button" and "very clean" (again with the clean), some of them did think we should be listed for $25,000 less. Excuse me, did you say $25,000 less?
That would be my head repeatedly hitting the keyboard.
In brighter news! Savannah and I had this exchange this morning:
Savannah calls out, from the bathroom "Good news! I can wipe my own butt! You and daddy don't have to help me anymore!"
I respond, from the shower, "Great! You can get your own place now!"
She thinks about this.
"No!" she cries, "I don't know how to make tuna or do my hair!".
Ah, my mothering abilities have been conveniently summed up for me in order of importance. How refreshing.