Not closing today. Again. We were delayed until Tuesday.
This is ridiculous and frustrating ... oh so frustrating. I think I would actually be handling this better if I or Ray had screwed up at some point in this stupid process. But, no. Other people keep making mistakes. And we just have to keep waiting.
Here's a rundown of yesterday:
3:45 p.m. - Ray comes to work to get car seat so he can pick up Lola. I said, "At this time tomorrow we'll have a house!" Stupid me.
4 p.m. - I go to a meeting at City Hall.
5 p.m. - return to the office and sit down to write article.
5:24 p.m. - Ray calls. And I soon as I hear his voice I know what he is going to say.
He says it ... and I yell at him (I'm not proud of this, but damn it, I was going to yell at someone and he was closest).
5:45 to about 6:15 p.m. - Writing article at work while also texting Ray about what the hell went wrong this time. I also e-mail and text my parents.
7 p.m. - I get home, Lola gives me the biggest hug you can imagine. Wraps her little arms around my neck tighter than she ever has before and just clings to me for nearly three minutes. Ray says she must have known something was wrong because she did the same with him as soon as he got the news.
7:15 p.m. - I, again, apologize for yelling at Ray. He's fine. Luckily, I have a forgiving husband.
7:30 p.m. - I take out my frozen Lean Cuisine meal. And realize that I stupidly bought one that needs to cook in the microwave for 11 minutes and 30 seconds (come on, that is not cool) at 50 percent heat, which we can't do in our microwave (someday I'll tell you about our microwave, whose name is Lazarus). I burn a microwavable dinner. (Thus why Ray does almost all of the cooking in our home.)
8 to 10:10 p.m. - Ray and I absentmindedly flip through the TV channels, muttering every 5-10 minutes that this sucks.
10:10 p.m. - We cut our losses and go to bed.
So this is going to be (another) crappy weekend. Not that last weekend was really bad - we actually had a very nice time - but we're tired of this. I feel like I've aged 12 years in the past 20 days.
But one of these days, we're going to have a *&^%$#@ house.