If you drink slowly enough, your celebratory wine can become consolatory wine...

 
...and then just regular ol' drinkin' wine while watching Tori and Dean. We opened a fancy bottle of wine Saturday night to celebrate putting the offer in on the house. Pat and I both had a glass. I was too stressed to drink wine Sunday (is that possible?), but Pat did have a glass. And then I had some more last night in which to drown my sorrows. This seems to be some never-ending fancy bottle of wine, so now I'm just settling down with a glass.
 
I am happy to say that, although I started the day feeling quite dismayed with the house situation, at some point this morning I started actually feeling okay with it. First, the house itself had some obvious idiosyncrasies (eg, there was no place to put the kitty litter box, there was really no storage), but whenever I would think about those things I would immediately think about how awesome the bathrooms were, or how beautiful the windows were, or how gorgeous the gardens were. But then I had a bit of a breakthrough. This was a historic house in an an actual neighborhood-neighborhood. I Google'd the neighborhood this morning to see if I could find out its history, and I found the neighborhood association's website and, HOLY CRAP, those neighbors would be all up in our grill - in the nicest way possible, but still. They expect you to do neighborly activities, and pay dues, and help "support" your neighbors, and keep your yard super well maintained. I mean, sometimes we don't mow our lawn for a month, and our lawn still looks way the heck nicer than many of our current neighbors' lawns. I don't think I am ready to be the slacker neighbor. When my mom and I went to the open house on Sunday, there were a bunch of obnoxious women in the dining room all kibitzing about the sellers and their house and blah-blah-blah-blah-blah, and they all seemed to know an awful lot about the couple. Now I understand why, and I sure wouldn't want to be forced to hang out with those women and then have them standing in someone else's dining room kibitzing about me.  
 
Call it self-preservation or whatever you like, but I guess I'm okay with how things worked out. While I highly, highly doubt we will find another house as aestheically pleasing, I am almost certain we'll find another that suits our family better.
 
And yes, I realize I'm talking about the house a lot. It was just a lot of energy and hope in one thing (and in a short amount of time - hey, I'm on the same bottle of wine!). But now, on to other things*.
 
For example, Greta is a bit danger prone and often has multiple cuts and scrapes and whatnot. At this very moment she is wearing three (count 'em, three) Band-Aids. And tonight I was reading her a book, and it asked a bunch of questions that she was answering. One such question was, "What makes you feel happy?" and she gleefully exclaimed, "Band-Aids!" Hehe.
 
*Although I just saw a commercial that showed the same washer and dryer that were in the house, and I actually stuck my lower lip out, in some sort of immature, yet involuntary reaction...I'm still healing. (Send more wine.)
Fran