My realtor irks the shit outta me and I cannot wait until all of this is over so the only interaction I have with him is a Christmas card every year.
I’m supposed to be moving “on or around March 5th.”
We’re basically all packed up and ready to go, except for the last minute stuff. I emailed him on Saturday and he said that he’d be reaching out to everyone on Monday. Here’s a snippet from the actual email:
Everyone’s contract says “on or about March 5th.”
I will not know for sure until we are closer. I will reach out to all Monday and see where we are with schedules.
I replied and said, okie dokie.
Well, it’s fucking Tuesday.
He gets all irritated, huffy and puffy with me and I swear that it’s not paranoia creeping into my cranium.
The guy just doesn’t like me. I can tell, I have special powers that are able to read the vibes that radiate from people.
I have awful anxiety issues, as you guys are quite aware of. I think this makes him uncomfortable or something, like, oh shit, why did I take this in need of a major rehab, small commission, condo job? The owner is a certified nutcase.
I have papers to prove it.
Also, it’s because I’m a divorced woman. If I had a husband, things would be different. When he met with my brother, they shook hands and spoke man-talk. Look at how nice this hot water tank is!
And I’m all excited about the backsplash in the kitchen.
He also doesn’t care much for my daughter, she also has that special vibe catching power.
She knows it, I know it and he knows that we know it.
All we’re waiting for is for the buyer to pay up for my condo, so I can pay for the house. (I honestly have no clue how any of this works.)
What if the deal falls through?
I still can’t get myself to feel more excited because (insert anxiety here.)
We were told to be ready to vacate the condo by March 5th. We’ve done what we were told and now I wait, extremely impatiently, for him to fucking call me.
So I can call utility companies, hire the movers and start to count down the days.
I should probably call him and be like, what the fuck, man? What’s your major malfunction not communicating with me?
I mean, geez ass.
But my anxiety keeps me from picking up my phone. Honestly, you guys, I really miss my mom so damn bad. This Friday would’ve been her 75th birthday and I feel this heavy cloak of sadness draped across my shoulders.
I want to call her. I want her to tell me to just be patient and that it’ll all work out just fine.
My boyfriend took me to the cemetery this past Saturday. We go about once a month. I buy dollar store flowers because I hate to visit empty-handed. I talk to both of my parents, not just my mother. Steven also talks to them. Then we’re silent for a few minutes while we pray.
I’ll tell you, asshat would’ve never done that shit with me. He probably would’ve stayed in the car.
I absolutely hate having anxiety and the entire “vibe” thing. I’m getting better slowly when it comes to uncomfortable situations like this but damn it anyway.
There are four transactions for the deal to be done, waiting on a loan officer to get back into town tomorrow, he’s waiting on that, so we just need to be patient and shit. But he said that he’s working on it and once the final piece of the puzzle is in place, we are good to go.