The (un)Joy of owning a home.

Today, I bought a home.  That's right, after three years of looking, 3 months of negotiations and 6 months of contract hell, I closed on an apartment.  This should be one of those happy days that you put in the books, alongside the day you met your significant other, your wedding day (divorce finalized for some), the births of your kids etc.

So why do I feel like someone climbed down my throat, scooped out my guts, blended them and shoved them all up my ass?

At My Wits End

Today, I lost my shit.  It was bound to happen.  The combined pressure of obtaining that precious mortgage commitment letter and preparing, and submitting, the coop package, all before the dreaded deadline, has taken its toll.

Sure, the pressure itself is partly to blame but, when they sift through the wreckage that is my psyche, after years of deep psychoanalysis, were they dig deeper into the cause of my snappage, they will find that there is one person responsible for the mayhem, for the chaos, for the death and for the destruction.

And she deserves to be punished.

For Two Short Days, My Life Is Perfect

That's right, I'm was fucking happy for two full days.   For those that aren't aware, I am on the verge of a nervous breakdown of late.  The post-tax season wind down never came.  I went from the previously discussed nightmare right into the preparation of mortgage applications and coop board packages for an apartment I am trying to buy.

The process has been driving me crazy.  The brokers are morons and, unfortunately, I'm doing this alone.  My wife has offered to help, and she has been stellar in gathering whatever I ask her to gather but, at the end of the day, the pages of forms and schedules are my area of expertise so I'm doing them all.

To add to the misery, my secretary quit at the end of tax season.  Apparently, having to work until 7:30, two days in a row, was too much for her to handle.

Anyway, back to my misery.  I'm trying to run my business, gather all this paperwork, find a new secretary, and deal with being a husband and father and, honestly, it's not working for me any more.

My wife and my father both pointed out that I seemed to be on the verge of collapse, physically and mentally.  My wife asked if, perhaps, I shouldn't get myself a vallium or two.  I honestly don't know the answer to that.

That's how fucked up I am.

So, how did I have two glorious days?

All thanks to my children.