So our practically-perfect house turned out to be not-so-perfect. We were in the process of applying and were going to meet with the landlord when we got a call from our real estate agent that they had already given it to someone else. Apparently the landlord was a bit of a nutjob, though, so it probably was a good thing. Still a bit of a bummer, though.

So now we’ve applied for another house, which is lovely. Just a few things we’re not crazy about (no fenced yard, a little farther out than we wanted), but overall a good option. So now we’re waiting to hear back from the owners.

I hate waiting.

Speaking of waiting, last night we watched the movie “127 Hours.” It’s the true story of the canyoneer who cut off his own arm when he got pinned inside a ravine in the middle the Utah desert. He was there for five days. Alone in a ravine with his arm pinned by a huge rock.

Can you imagine? Waiting to get rescued, which was practically hopeless. Waiting for rain that never came. Waiting for some wild animal to come and find you. Waiting to die of dehydration.

That’s a lot of waiting. Long, lonely, scary, hopeless waiting. Makes our waiting to hear if we’re getting this nice comfy house seem a bit trivial. I’m certainly not going to cut off any of my limbs to get this house.

I might sacrifice a toenail, but that’s it.

Or maybe the mole on my neck that BoyWonder likes to pick at. I’d cut that off.

How about I just pluck out a few extra eyebrow hairs. Would that count?

Off to bed. Perhaps I’ll come up with a suitable bodily sacrifice to appease the housing gods in the morning. 🙂

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Annie writes about life, motherhood, world issues, beautiful places, and anything else that tickles her brain. On good days, she enjoys juggling life with her husband and homeschooling her children. On bad days, she binges on chocolate chips and dreams of traveling the world alone.

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