Why I Would Never Want To Be A Realtor

Whoever said househunting is fun should A) never look with my husband and B) experience a "short drop with a sudden stop."

For weeks Brad and I have looked at homes in the Greenville area. Homes are aplenty for buyers with the overloaded, adjustable-rate mortgage-flooded market as it is. However, in order to not join the weary, woebegone foreclosed masses, we have to look at homes in a certain price range. They are many. They are varied. Some should just be raized and put out of their misery. Others will not come down low enough for us to afford it comfortably (damn them).

We got really close last week. At least, we thought we had. We put an offer down. It was reviewed. The treat was held before us and we were salivating. We went to Lowe's and Home Depot and thought of every conceiveable way we could improve THAT house. Then, after a few counter offers, they refused to go any lower, we refused to go any higher, and that, my friends, was "The End" of that.

So, now we're back to hunting. And it's exhausting. Who knew that just looking at houses could be so tiring? It's absolutely annoying to be so concentrated on one objective ALL THE TIME!!!!!

All I want is a few quiet, uninterrupted weekend hours to sit somewhere with some coffee and a good book to escape reality. Is that so much to ask?

On a better ending note, the musical Spamalot is coming to Greenville soon and I got some premotional coconut-flavored lip balm today that promises it was not tested on either African or European swallows. I'm immensely pleased by this.