I wish I were a cat, so I could hack up a stress ball like a hairball and just be done with it. I’d probably hack it up in somebody’s shoe, though, and then they’d be like “wtf” and it’s hard for a human to go “mow mow” and run away without being in danger of being committed to the closest asylum.
This whole thing is just… It’s just very stressful. I don’t have a better word for it. It’s rewarding, yeah, and it’s fulfilling, but for god’s sake, do they have to require that we chase our tails and then prove that we chased those tails around in circles a sufficient number of times before they’re like “okay – NOW you can close escrow”. This is me, rolling my eyes.
Just so it’s clear, I adore the people we have in our corner. Stephen, Cindy, Mel… I love you guys. Thank you for working SO HARD for us and for making this process exponentially more fun when you’re around to guide us through it. I just wish you three could be in charge of every part of this process. Oh well. Take the good with the bad, save the baby from that nasty bathwater, and when it balances out, you’ve got a fairly straight shot from one side of the tunnel to the other. The problem is that nothing is ever really average, and nothing balances out until you’re through it. When you’re IN it? It’s like a whole bunch of scribbles on a piece of paper. It’s like trying to find your way through a twisting tunnel in the blackest of nights. Even when you’re laughing, you’re still hitting the wall, and your cries of “DAMN IT!” still echo off the bricks. The only real hope of getting through it is that the echos of your frustrated cries DO escape into some other where eventually, and maybe if that echo of your frustration can make it out, you can too.
In any case, this is pretty – and it’s on its way to being ours:
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