It’s a kitty-snuggling morning. Chaucer is actually trying to force himself into my lap. He uses the “frog in the pot” method: if he moves slowly enough, he thinks I won’t notice until he’s suddenly on my keyboard. Mal is squeezing himself against Chaucer.
Even better, it’s Friday. I was up early-ish. After checking the latest news on the election (FUCK YEAH GEORGIA), I had some tea, and did a 45-minute workout.
Tomorrow, I’ll hurt.
Today, I’ll feel like I did something.
Yesterday, I also did stuff.
I emailed the agent and set up a date for her to do a walk-through and look at the house. That took a lot. In a way, it feels like I’m admitting defeat. I couldn’t handle it on my own until the border opened. Is that the case? Not at all. I could handle it, and I did. I can’t afford it on my own. Would I have liked to have left earlier and gone up to Canada? Certainly. I don’t want to go to Canada by way of Florida. Covid screwed that option, and I did what I had to do.
The agent talked with Shawshank on the phone earlier this week. He said she’s confident she could get us close to what other properties in the area have gone for. She’ll come over on Thursday morning and we’ll have a chat. I plan to spend the weekend with one major haul out of everything that I won’t take with me when I leave here.
Today, it’s a split shift with StressedRPh and the new guy. Unfortunately, I’m closing with StressedRPh. The weather is nice today, so it’ll be steady at work. I’ll probably grab some dinner on the way home, or order from Hometown.
Fortunately, the rest of the weekend is supposed to be even nicer than today. I can open some windows and air out the house. Things are moving.
