House for sale?

Let me just start by saying that if you are currently in the market to buy a house, I hate you. But to be fair, you deserve it.

We have been selling our house for two months now, and have showed it multiple times a week. Do the math, and it comes out to 4 billion times I have had to clean the house for all the dumb looky loos. Now don't get me wrong. I was excited the first 16 million times someone came to look at the house. I would vacuum, wipe, and scrub each time, just hoping that my efforts would pay off and some fortunate family would get the privilege of sharing the same home I once resided in. Fool.

Inevitably, people would come to look at the house the same time I was trying to round up my children and get out. What this means is that while I'm walking out the door I'm hearing things like, "Oh wow. I could never live with a kitchen like this..." or "How did they manage with this paint color? Yuck." Really lady? You're thinking my neutral paint color is yuck meanwhile I'm watching your nasty little 5 year old wipe his snotty nose on your mom jeans? I've got another definition of 'yuck' and it falls somewhere along the lines of your hair. Wash much?

Not to be a nasty, but selling our house has bridged the final gaps into my final metamorphosis of biotch. I hate home buyers. Everyone thinks they are looking for the equivalent of Oprah's house, but only willing to pay $100,000. The math doesn't add up, people.

And on that note, our house is currently under contract and we hope all goes well.

Also, I was feeding Chet some of Rip's old baby food when I got the crazy idea to check the expiration date. It hasn't even been a year since Rip was eating-but-not-actually-eating that crap, so I figured I was okay. So I take a glance and realize the expiration date was April. According to my calculations, that makes the sweet potatoes currently being digested/thrown up by Chet almost 4 months old. The truly interesting point in this story is that I checked the expiration date prior to feeding Chet. That's right. I fed him rotten food. And I feel pretty dang good about it. Awesome, in fact. Serves pukey right.