Oh you know I did it / It's over and I feel fine

As of 11am yesterday, we are homeowners.

When Tim and I arrived (early) at the lawyer's office for the closing, we found our agent standing outside talking to the listing agent. The first words out of my mouth were "Good morning. I think I may vomit.". The listing agent, having completed all of the paperwork on behalf of his clients (who are in Ohio), spoke with us for a few minutes and then left when we went inside.

I signed or initialed something like sixty pieces of paper, and when we were all done and the lawyer asked "so, is there anything else?"... I was like "er, so who has the house key?"

Everybody looked around the table at each other, realization dawning: Nobody had the key; the listing agent left with it.

So for about three hours yesterday I owned a house I couldn't get into. Tim had a fantastic time with that one, I tell you what.

And ain't this position familiar darling

It's 4:30 a.m. on a Tuesday
It doesn't get much worse than this

These were the wholly appropriate song lyrics in my head as I woke up at 4am sandwiched between Meredith and Tim (with a barnacle Stella), blinding pain in my back, my legs.

The pain ran me out of bed this morning, but fretfulness kept me awake.
So tired of hurting.
So much on my mind.

With five hours of sleep, four advil, three cups of coffee in me... I'm going to wake my three loves and get ready to face the day.

I'm just so tired

I do not sleep well.

Last night was a fan-frickin-tastic example of this, for it was fraught with feet in my ribs, pain my my back, and nightmares about fish. It is the story of the latter which I bring to you this fine morning.

I have an aquarium. This was an important part of my dream. The aquarium had relocated itself to a small beach shore contained within my screened-in back porch. I went outside to feed the fish, and realized with some dismay that one of the Raphaels had grown feet and arms and was climbing up and over the side of the tank. I cursed, and dropped to all fours to catch the fish as it ran around in the sand underneath the tank stand. Suddenly this fish was about eight inches long, and I was totally grossed out by the idea of catching it and shoving it back into the tank. I did it anyway, and as I got ahold of and muscled it up to the top of the aquarium, it turned and bit me on the hand, hard.

It was at this point that the fish began having a lucid conversation with me, in German. In my dreams I apparently speak frickin German. I had no idea, really.

I repeated this fish catching exercise three or four times, and each time the fish were bigger and scarier and much, much yuckier. There was a Moray Eel, and I really wanted to die. Tim thought it would be funny to show up at this point with a gigantic Hippofish (what?) puppet, swoop down on me from a rack above the tank; and force me to catch the sqiuggly wiggly slimy bipedal hippofish baby that he dropped from the bottom of the puppet.

My parents sat upon a loveseat behind me, watching.