Under stress? Me?

Wil read the entry below and innocently asked what's bothering me.

What?!  DO I APPEAR STRESSED TO YOU? 

Er... they say the top three stressors are death, illness and moving.

I'm happy to report everyone is alive.  :::knock wood:::

As for the others, well, um, as a matter of fact, no, the family hasn't been as healthy as I like.  Nobody was at death's door or anything, but, yeah, there was some surgical intervention required.  It's all OK now, but we've all been on edge a bit waiting for various test results and stuff like that.  New rule:  There shall be instantaneous test results.  Yes, I know, there's probably perfectly good medical reasons for why you have to wait for this stuff.  I don't care.  Good news is wonderful, but all the icky stuff that parades through your mind when you're waiting for the good news is enough to drive you batty.

And then there's Item Three on the List o' Stressors.  Back in Spring -- actually, it was at Easter Brunch -- someone planted the idea in my head of possibly moving out of this condo and getting into a house.  To my great surprise, I liked the idea.  And several months down the line, I still like the idea.  I've been extremely slow in actually committing to the idea, however -- contenting myself with reading property listings online and dropping by the occasional Open House.  (Although I notice that I check property listings daily and feel a little twinge of regret when one I liked the look of ends up disappearing from the listings before I even got a chance to see it.)  Recently, I was at an Open House where I didn't much like the house, but the agent started chatting me up in a "I smell Potential Customer" way -- but he seemed smart enough to not push too hard on someone who is still undecided on the whole moving thing to begin with.  I researched him a bit and he seemed like a decent enough guy -- and I figured that I might as well have him over my condo to give me a market evaluation of the place, so I'll know if I can even afford the sort of house I might want to buy.

(Interestingly enough, when I check listings online, I can get a pretty solid idea of how much the houses I like cost.  However, I can't at all get a grip on how much comparable condos in my neighborhood go for.  It's a massive price range wholly undependent on things like number of bed- and bathrooms.)

So, we made the appointment for today.

We made this appointment on Monday.

Tuesday night, I had plans to go to the movies.  (Pirates 2.  We'll talk about that sometime later.)  I got home around 11:30, and took a good look at my place through "Market Evaluation" eyes.  And I saw a ton of clutter and a trail of kitty litter running not only all over the bathroom but scattered all over my master bathroom carpet.  Boy, that says "Buy me," don't it?

So, after I got back from the movie, I tidied.  Actually, that isn't the correct word.  "Tidying" would imply putting everything away in its proper place.  I had no time for that.  I "hid."  (Can't vacuum the litter off the bathroom rug?  Hide bathroom rug in washing machine.  No time to file all those loose folders?  Throw them in a dresser drawer.)  I managed a bit more hiding before the agent came tonight -- I was pretty much shoving the vacuum back in the utility closet right when he rang the bell -- and I think the place "showed" nice.  Well, he kept looking at stuff saying, "That's a nice improvement."  I was hoping that every "nice improvement" came with a comparable "ka-ching" on his mental cash register, but we'll find that out next week. 

Then I'll know if I can afford to move.  Great.