Wah.

Hello Internet. Welcome to Tuesday afternoon, except in my brain, where it is Wednesday and I have scheduled fourteen appointments for this evening and where is the phone and I need to cancel and what was I THINKING scheduling all this stuff at the same time except- oh- it's Tuesday. Internet, if there is no convenient conflict happening in my world, my brain CREATES it. Brain? Enough already.

And the accountant brought in Easter M&Ms and what with all my world-renowned self control, I have eaten several hundred and am now hammnering out fifteen snot-nosed emails per minute. Dear Valued Customer: Bite me.

Conspiring to shred my day into little pieces of crap are the U.S. Postal Service, an impending Cold Front of Doom and the man I no longer work for, but who seems to believe that I am still manning his own personal 24-hour technical support service. Oh, and I can't forget the townhouse I saw last night, the object of some heretofore untapped reservoir of serious real-estate adoration, but which, unfortunately, will probably be sold by the time you read this. My heart, it is breaking.

For a little over a year now Phillip and I have been doing the Potential Home Buyer Oh Maybe Not Yet Well This One's Kinda Neat No You're Right We Can't Right Now Tap Dance of Major Muscle Tension. The apartment that once seemed so large has somehow shrunk. We've talked a lot about finding a new apartment, but every time we bring it up, the Greek Chorus of Why Rent When You Can Buy? starts its shrieking and, well, why not? So anyway, they are building adorable townhouse after adorable townhouse around here, but they are all within the neighborhood of seriously financially draining. We could purchase one of these cookie-cutter townhouses if we planned to never eat again. (But you guys know my husband, right? The man needs his nightly bag o' Lays Potato Chips. And okay okay. I might be sitting right next to him slurping on my Healthy Choice Fudge Bar. And Internet, those things are SUPER YUMMY.)

THEN we're all "We gotta Hunker Down!" but Internet, that doesn't mean I don't surf www.johnlscott.com while I'm at work, right? And lo and behold, I find my Perfect Townhouse. The Townhouse of Beautiful Massive-Square-Footage Perfection. And my husband? He of the major hunkering down? HE CALLS THE AGENT TO SCHEDULE A SHOWING. Love!

So yes. It's true. The very first piece of real estate I have EVER SEEN in my role as Actual Real Live Buyer is the piece I want to buy. This is BAD NEWS, Internet. Someone is already signing their life savings away to buy my perfect townhouse RIGHT THIS SECOND.

I might write more about this later. When it isn't time to go home. And when I don't have to split myself into fourteen sections to make my fourteen appointments GOOD GRIEF I NEED A NAP.