Please feel free to stop by and kill me. It appears that someone needs to start their mortgage process all over. This morning the weather changed and I was freezing all day. I've already packed my sweaters. And by the time all the mortgage stuff is together, I will probably have to buy winter boots because they're packed too.
I hope my ace mortgage person can help move this new mortgage application along like f------ JPMorganCHASE would not. All the banks have merged and were rewarded in the process. Okay, I'm getting redundant and want to purge all over them again. Enough!
I spent a good portion of the day hauling art from one floor of our agency's building to another. Our big auction happens this weekend and I am praying that we make some money. Please please god, let us make some money. And don't let it be me helping that happen. If the stress I'm dealing with merely had me getting divorced and buying a new home, that is almost manageable, but having to maintain my job, provide support to staff, make sure we don't lose money, keep a balanced budget in the midst of the biggest "recession" since the Great Depression (talk about great depression), and it becomes surreal. I feel as if I have one foot in quick sand and the other on a banana peel. And the worst part, if that statement were reality and not a metaphor, I'd be a bit more optimistic than I am now.
Downstairs, from my soon not-to-be-mine-condo, the new gallery owner, is hammering yet more nails into the walls for a new installation. I just heard someone yell, "F---!" They don't know how easy they have it.
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