Welcome to the Jungle

Life has been nutso lately.

Or maybe it’s just me that has been nutso lately.

Case in Point:
Yesterday, my husband was too scared to talk to me while I was cleaning/staging/baking/running/scrubbing/panting/sweating to get the house ready for our open house. (Side note & one reason for the NUTSO: where does one put all of one’s dirtied clothing when all of the staging bibles are telling us that all hampers need to be clear of any dirty laundry? egads.) Instead of asking me where to put my cell phone that was hanging out in a “this is supposed to be an uncluttered space!!!” space, he simply avoided me entirely and dropped it into a pocket of the diaper bag.

Smart move. Smart guy.

I found that I could laugh about it later. But he said something jokingly to me during said nutso phase - and I gave him THE LOOK: the “DON’T MESS WITH ME OR I MIGHT SIMPLY EXPLODE INTO A MILLION, TINY MICHELLE PIECES” look. Yeah, I told you – Miss Nutso.

While we were driving to church we did laugh about it. I even relaxed, took a deep breath and said that I should have had a sign hanging around my neck, stating: “Danger: Wild Animal on the Loose”. Having a house on the market turns you into a raving, lunatic monkey on crack… or at least it does for me.

The worst and kind of depressing part is that we had a total of 3 people show up over a four-hour period of time. All that work, stress and nusto-ness – and yes, 3 people. Actually, two people and one neighbor; apparently, a nefarious, nearby neighbor who was short-selling their townhouse showed up… and wanted to copy our staging so that she could trump our place.

Nice.

All that work and cleaning/staging/baking/running/scrubbing/panting/sweating to get the house ready for our open house. – and someone comes along and pulls the rug out from under us.

Blah.

Guess I need to pull that sign back on around my neck. Danger: Wild Animal is on the Loose again.

Or maybe it’s just a case of the Mondays.