it’s a new year.
2006. i never thought i’d be 43 years old.
back to the annoying house subject:
the realtor came over and we went over our request for repairs. now the peeps selling the house can say “yes, abortion we’ll give you some money for the repairs” or “eat me” and then we’ll decide what to do.
each morning i wake up in a panic about being able to pay for the house. by the end of the day, i’m fine.
work tomorrow. and i’m up too late, once again.