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10:45 PM, Sunday, May 12th, 2003:
Wiped. Beaten. Pummelled. Whipped. Ravaged.
We all know that stress can effect you physically, but rarely do you see it in such brilliant and obvious light. Jess had been sick for a couple of weeks and my body was strong enough to allow me not to catch it. I was getting enough sleep, eating right, and my body was generally fighting the good fight. After the turmoil of last Thursday however, my body lost. In a 3 hour span, I went from healthy and happy, to sick as hell - all because of numbers and figures. Apparently my body's defenses went to help me "stress the hell out" and left me vulnerable.
So the final closing papers signing was eventful to say the least. What should be roughly 10-15 minutes ended up being 3 hours. The numbers were oh...over $3000 off of what we were told to expect. Amazingly though, I was pretty cool throughout that. It was kind've a giggle. Like - we don't have $10000, so...what's there to stress about. What ended up happening however (looking back on it) was rather funny. Jess was sitting talking to the escrow lady, and I was on the cell phone with our realtor. He had 2 phones, one with me and one with our lender. She also had 2 phones, one with the lender and one with her assistant. And to top all of this off - her assistant was also talking on a 2nd phone to the escrow lady, who was talking to Jessica. Jessica of course would run back and forth between me and the escrow lady. It was a splendid time had by all. This with the looming "If you don't sign now you'll delay closing" over our head. I swear people have zero conscience when it comes to appreciating how stressed out these two people are at this point in the process. Grrrrrrr.
But we finally worked it all out and amazingly, Adam isn't sick still. All is good. Then we come home and realize that our $950 rent check was never cashed, so we actually are now $950 short for the cashier's check for closing on Monday (yes we ended up having to use every single penny in our account). That was a little unnerving. Then the goddamn carpet guy says if he can't get into the house early tomorrow to measure - that we can't have our install date - which pretty much screws our entire move. We agreed on 1 PM but now he needs 8 AM. Then the woman calls and says she can't do it until Saturday - we have to fight with her about that. For another good 90 minutes at home Jess and I are running all over, and calling everyone to work things out. By the time that was all over, I sat down, and swallowed. And the moment arrived. The inevitable "scratch" of the throat. That one moment where you realize you are going to feel like shit for the next couple of days. And it really was instant. One moment I felt fine, the next moment - pow, I was sick.
Isn't that incredible? I mean if you really think about it, it was all in my head. Just scenerios and phone calls and numbers and dates...obviously some stressful shit - but the fact that my THOUGHTS can effect my body so distinctly is amazing.
So after being a zombie at home the following day, and an achy bastard at work on Saturday we get to the final walk-through. It kind've all sunk in just how much work was ahead of us. Truly, picture a cool house circa 1984 with landscaping in the back yard, mid-80's wallpaper everywhere...then imagine never, ever, ever cleaning or keeping it up in the past 20 years. There isn't a corner that doesn't need to be completely redone. From every cracked door jam to every god-awful piece of wallpaper (and the layers of paint underneath. It's a sight to see...but it's ours. They left us some gardening tools which is cool, and even a lawn mower that may be serviceable (certainly wasn't USED much). And of course some cleaning supplies from the bathroom...and again they never used them - so why the hell would they keep em? LOL.
Now comes the paragraph so amazing, so spectacular, that I dare not even write it. As I type it I realize it can't possibly be true, but here goes:
As we're walking out, a cat runs past me and Jess. We both joked that it looked like J-Dog. We followed it to the side of the house, it turned back and looked at us, then ran underneath the house. Both Jess and I lost our minds. It was fuggin' J. I mean, if the scenerio wasn't so ludicrous, I'd put money on it - but it just CANT be. We tried to see him underneath the house, and I spotted him, but it was too dark to really tell. But my logic was battling my eyes. There is no FREAKING way J-Dog would just happen to have found his way to the new house. It's just not possible. But we both saw him. Grrrr. Went home and just stewed about it. The more I kept telling myself there's no way, the more I felt I had to go back and look.
Finally Sunday morning, Jess, Paddy and I went back. Nothing. Couldn't find him anywhere. Found our garage door open with kids playing in the back yard (I swear that wall is goin' up YESTERDAY damnit), but no J-Dog. It's a bit worrisome at this point because there'll be a big-ass tent over our house tomorrow morning as they kill every living bug within it (including any CAT that may be living underneath - sigh).
At this point I'm completely telling myself there was no possible way it was him. Couldn't be. The chances are just too astronimical...but I still have this vision burned on my brain of him turning his head around to both me and Jess and both of us knowing it was him. God that sucks.
And so ends the 60 days of stress that we've endured. A patient told me last week that her house-buying experience was perfect in every way, and she still thought she was gonna have a nervous breakdown. It really does rank as one of the 5 most stressful things anyone can go through. Especially with our (nut) case. Heh. Now we're just left with the mad-dash to prep/paint and prepare for the carpet on Saturday, and then get everything moved in before dawn on Sunday. I have a feeling I will be sick for the next 2 months at this rate. C'est La Vie.