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All I want for Christmas survive.

Yesterday Clay and I met with a Realtor. I don't know what the difference is between a Realtor or a listing agent or whatever. I just know Realtor is capitalized, and that the one we picked to sell our house brought us coffee. She also has a cleaning crew, which lawsy. That, right there, justifies every penny of her commission.

We really needed that cleaning crew, because the house we're selling is our old house, our tiny little jewel of a home (I'm completely rational and businesslike about this whole deal, btw), and for the past couple of years, we've been renting it out. Renters, man. Wow. I don't even know how you get carpets that dirty. Seriously.

So anyhow, there we were yesterday, talking over the work the property needs, and looking at "comps" (which is Realtor technical speak for "houses nearby that are nowhere NEAR as lovely as yours, but somehow determine your house's price, the jerks." See what I mean about the businesslike rational deal? Totes.), and making marketing plans. I suggested we list it at 150% of what she did, and she just chuckled at me. That makes her the third Realtor to think I was being funny. But really. It's a GOOD HOUSE.

Everything seemed totally doable yesterday. Then this morning I woke up and hauled a morning-weakened Sophia downstairs and propped her in front of her breakfast. As I stood there, hands cupped around my coffee, staring bleakly at my girl, who stared bleakly at her breakfast, Raphael looked at the calender. 

"Hey, it's exactly three weeks until Christmas!" he exclaimed. I looked at him, then focused and looked at the calender. And you know what?

It is three freaking weeks until Christmas.

At least, it was this morning.

I started to sweat, thinking of all the Christmas duties and events before me, plus Sophia is Star of the Week at school next week, so I need to find a craft for her whole class to do, and the house-selling chores on top of that. Painting and cleaning up the yard and picking out new carpet and...

I had me a little red and green glitter panic attack.

There is no way. There is simply no way. And yet, here we go! Yeesh, life is crazy stuff.