Tuesday, January 31, 2006

I am my mother's daughter

Last night I woke up at 1:30 and didn't get back to sleep until 3:00. I probably should have gone into the living room to read for awhile, but instead I tossed and turned for over an hour, worrying about work. I do this every once in awhile, usually when I have a big deadline coming up and I don't feel prepared, but sometimes it happens with dumb, piddly little things that don't really matter. Once I couldn't sleep because I was worrying about not having returned an e-mail that I really didn't need to respond to for several more days. By day I'm fine, and don't think of myself as an overly anxious person, but at night it just takes over.

Thankfully this doesn't happen very often, and it probably helps that I have a job that's very low-stress 75% of the time. Still, when it does I hate that I can't seem to shut off my brain, or at least convince it to forget whatever I'm worrying about until morning when I can actually do something to resolve the problem.

My mom does this too. Years ago when my parents were remodeling their kitchen, she told me that she couldn't sleep some nights because she was worrying about what kind of countertops to order. I'm like her in a lot of ways, so it probably shouldn't surprise me that I have her anxiety.

Oh well, at guess I can always send her my latte bill.

Sunday, January 29, 2006


About an hour after I posted we got a call from our realtor. Apparently the ad that was supposed to run in the Washington Post about our open house didn't make it in, so she wanted to know if we wanted to cancel it this weekend. I, in typical C fashion, didn't take that very well. This is the third appointment/open house that has been cancelled in the three weeks since we retained thisi realtor, and I was starting to get a wee bit pissed at her. Ultimately, we decided to have her come over and hope that the signs outside our building would bring people in. The husband and I headed out to a coffee shop, and killed a few hours reading.

Unsurprisingly, no one came, but just after we got home a realtor called wanting to show the place immediately. That'll make three people who've toured the place, which isn't too bad considering that it's been on the market for only a week.

In other annoying news, two weeks ago some asshole disabled the lock on the front door of our building, so anyone can just waltz in. We thought that we could fix it last night, so we went out there with a screwdriver and fiddled around for a few minutes. Couldn't fix it, but one of our neighbors came in while we were looking at it and concluded that WE must have been the ones to break the door.

Now, I can sort of understand why she might think that, but instead of asking us what we were doing, she went back to her unit, found the postcard that our realtor had mailed out earlier last week announcing that our place was on the market, and CALLED OUR REALTOR. When our realtor called us this morning to tell us about the advertising snafu, she mentioned this call that she'd gotten.

Now, first of all, who does that? Second, what the heck did this lady think that she would accomplish? Did she think our realtor would chastise us? Give us time out? Please. The woman works for us, she's not our mom. I could understand if wacko neighbor had reported it to he HOA, because it's a building safety issue, but what did she think the realtor was going to do about it? To add to the ridiculousness of the situation, she apparently came down to our open house today and talked to our realtor AGAIN. When the realtor explained what had actually happened, and told her that she'd noticed the broken door a couple of weeks ago, the lady apparently blew her off, saying that she knew we were the guilty ones.

I'll be interested to see if she ever actually asks us about it, or if she keeps harassing the realtor.

Open House

Almost two and a half years ago, my husband and I decided to buy a home. Prices in the DC market were skyrocketing, homes were going under contract less than 24 hours after they were put on the market, and we knew that if we wanted to buy, we needed to act fast before we were priced out of all the DC suburbs that weren't an unreasonable distance from our jobs. It was a somewhat impulsive decision, but one we've never regretted.

When we finally found our condo, we both knew it was the one for us. The day we closed and our realtor handed us the keys was one of the happiest days of my life. Also one of the most stressful, since signing a mortgage feels vaguely like you'e signing away everything you'll ever own, but mostly it was just really happy.

We've done a lot of the usual home improvement projects--painting, adding a mantel to our fireplace, replacing flooring--to make it exactly the home we wanted. There are still things I'd like to do, like adding new countertops, but we won't be able to because we're moving. In a little less than four months we're going to be packing up to move to Texas, and as such we're having to sell our condo. Two people have come by since it was put on the market last weekend, and the first open house is today.

I should be happy about this. Over the summer I started having anxiety attacks when the housing market here dramatically slowed down. I worried about what we'd do if our place didn't sell before we had to move. How would we pay two mortgages? When we met with our realtor for the first time two weeks ago, we told her that we'd be fine if our place sold quickly--we'd just move into a month-to-month apartment for awhile. Then, last weekend, three units in our neighborhood went under contract. Three units in one weekend in a development where nothing had moved since last summer.

Like I said, I SHOULD be happy about this. Selling our unit quickly will mean that we'll be able to seriously look at (and possibly make offers on) actual houses in our new Texas town when we make our real estate trip there in April. All I can think about, though, is that I'm not ready to leave this place. I'm not thrilled about this move period, but at the top of my list of things I'll miss about the DC area, in addition to all the great friends I've made here, is that I love our home.

My husband and I talked last night about what we'd do if we got an offer today. It's a long shot, but not totally out of the realm of possibility after what happened last weekend. "I'd freak the eff out," I told him. He agreed that he'd be shocked, but mostly just happy.

That's one of the big differences between us--I'm really bad with change. Hate it, and would rather stay in a less-than-great situation rather than change. He, on the other hand, doesn't really mind it much. I wouldn't say that he loves it, or that he likes changing per se, but it just doesn't bother him.

In any case, our first open house is this afternoon. We have to amuse ourselves somewhere else for three hours while strangers take a look around our home and try to decide if they'd like to make it theirs. Wish us luck!

Thursday, January 26, 2006

Pooped--Day 2

Another big day of meetings today, followed by dinner with a good friend who I only get to see twice a year. The good news was that we were both able to escape from our bosses for the evening to have a really nice dinner together. The bad news is that she's gotten an amazing promotion, so she and I won't be working together anymore. I'm happy that she's finally getting recognition for the fantastic work she's been doing for so long, but very sad that this is the last one of these things we'll get to attend together.

So goodbye L, I'll miss you!

Wednesday, January 25, 2006


I hate our bi-annual conferences. They're multi-day affairs where we talk about issues like tax reform and commercial development, and quite frankly they're dull as dirt. They also require me to put on my saleswoman hat and schmooze with people. I hate networking and schmoozing, because I think the key to being a good schmoozer is to believe that you really do mean every sychophantic word that you say as you're saying it. I don't, which makes me look awkward and uncomfortable instead of smooth and confident when I try to do it.

In any case, one day is down, two more to go, and thankfully I won't have to do this again until June.

Tuesday, January 24, 2006


My name is C, I'm 24, married, and live in the Washington, DC metro area, though my husband and I will be moving to Texas this spring. I love books, white wine, cats, and (based on a survey of my closet this morning) pink shirts. I hate 7:00 in the morning, my commute, and inconsiderate people who ride the Metro.

I work in political consulting, though I'm considering going back to school to get licensed as a teacher when we move. I'd like to have a job I feel passionate about, and I think teaching just might be the ticket.

I titled my blog "This Sorta Fairytale" because while I do belive in happily ever after, I also believe that happiness isn't always quite as clear-cut as we wish it were. This is my life, a "sorta fairytale" that involves places I never thought I'd live, things I never thought I'd experience, a man I'm thankful every day that I married, and a wonderful group of family and friends who keep me going. Welcome!