Work work work work work.

My existence = working.

I hurt so bad from working in my nasty house this weekend that I can barely move. My dislike for dogs has been replaced by a disgust. How can you ruin a house in 9 months? That takes a special talent, I believe. No wonder I have had so many showings with no interest. I wouldn't want that nasty pit, either, unless it was discounted several thousand dollars. I am sooooo peeved about this. I don't even know how to get some of that cleaned. How do you get yuck out of grout? A toothbrush and some floor cleaner? OMG. My light gray grout is now black. Holes galore in the walls. Brown walls from the dogs. Stains in the carpet from who knows what? Broken roman shades, that cost me over $1,000!!! And they were so freakin pissy and obsessive about having the house perfect and spotless "for their baby." Nasty nasty nasty.

However, I have never met smokers and dog owners that had high cleanliness standards. I should have known, right? Well, I didn't know that they smoked until I saw them outside smoking one day... I am so angry, and sore, and tired. I hope the house just sells and I will buy one closer to where I live to rent out. This sucks traveling to work so damned hard.

Update: I am going to devote the next paragraph to counting the chickens before they've hatched. Providing that everything checks out, 58% of the large financial risk that I took a few weeks ago will end in my favor this week. There is potential for this part to end even better than expected. The other 42% is still TBD. I still have faith that I did the right thing, despite the absence of logic and reality in the risk. Sometimes your faith calls you to step out of your comfort zone and do something that is completely irrational and that could end VERY badly. But, you have the internal peace and confidence that you are doing the correct thing and "jump in head first"--so to speak...