out of my control.

I hate when things are out from my realm of control. I know that sounds really stupid, but I just hate it. There are some personal things that happened yesterday that I won't get into on this public blog, but anyhow. I wish I could control those things, too! 

I am not usually an insomniac. I owe all of this bliss to pregnancy, bizarre urges to go to the bathroom, and intense hunger pangs. I also owe this to my house lust for a particular house that I posted about and later removed due to fear of the real estate agency seeing my post. 

Apparently if you yank the pictures from the real estate site, it links the house number ( though I didn't list it) to a basic google search of the address. ( I figured this out in my frequent googling of said house.) 

So, we're going to put an offer in after our parents take a look at it on Friday night, and I'm terrified that it's going to sell and that we won't get it. I already freaked out because one real estate site looked like it had sold, but I later found out it was one of those generic things that the agency had on their site for any address, like " Just imagine-- your house, sold!" Apparently, it was some form of encouragement, but it caused me to break out in hives and run through the house bemoaning the one that got away.  Major meltdown, worthy of any toddler's tantrum, I assure you. I'm pretty sure a demon entered me and I screamed to Brandon, " YOU SAID MY PRECIOUS WOULD BE OURS..." 

I'm also terrified that my dad, the handyman of the bunch, will find some major flaw in the house and add his sage wisdom to the decision.  And that Brandon will be unflinching in his desire to NOT sink that much money into the house for repairs, to start looking for something easier, etc, etc...lot of nail biting over here.  I'm starting to wonder-- if it's such an easy fix, why haven't there been more bites? Every house on that road is selling in the $200k except for the one we're looking at, the big "F".  

Basically... a nervous wreck. I don't know if we have the time to move. I know we have a lot of help from both sides of the family and that everything will work out, but I'm just overloaded with feelings about the pregnancy, work, and repairs we need to make to this rental house before we remove ourselves from it. 

Also, we have some friends of ours who desperately want to get out of their own house ( bad neighbors) and rent ours for what we're paying monthly. I don't know if we could snag the same deal for them.  The only reason we caught this break is that my family and these landlords have known each other for generations. It's not every day you rent an 1800-sq. foot renovated house with a full basement for $500 a month, not in this wonky economy. This was our blessing, and it may still continue to be our blessing if things don't work out. I'm trying to be content, but my house lust is overwhelming me. I think that once you hit the fourth or fifth month of pregnancy, your need to nest is uncontrollable and you'll do anything to bring your baby home to something nicer than what currently exists. 

In case you're wondering, I would like to sink about $500-1000 in the rental for repairs. We have to repaint our bedroom due to some sheetrock damage that happened when the roof was leaking. We have to repaint the den due to the paint mishap of 2009 that was not documented anywhere because it was so embarrassing. My mom and I got so sick to our stomachs when we saw that the paint color I had chosen matched the couch exactly. How one does that is beyond my realm of understanding. And then we kept adding white paint to dilute the color, oy vey. Not good. 

And the carpet in the den. . . it's berber, and you know what that means. It unravels at the least disturbance (especially the vacuum) . And we have cats, and I'm sure there's a foot of cat hair beneath that carpet despite the amount of vacuuming I do. And the cats are still fully clawed, so there's some damage to door facings due to their need to go anywhere but the scratching post. Nothing that a small hand-sander and trim paint won't handle, but you get the point.  And then Brutus ( our dog) has completely scratched the heck out of the back door.  That needs to be sanded and repainted. Just a lot of minor repairs that add up to money. I think Brandon wants to sit down and talk to the landlords about the carpet. I'm the sort that doesn't want to talk, just replace aka I'm driving him insane. 

Anyhow, I just had to get that off my chest so I could go back to sleep without making Brandon hate me. There was much tossing, turning, and whimpering about the house when I thought he was awake. HE WAS NOT AWAKE. I woke him up with my pathetic heavy sighs. 

God, please give us this house.