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.
