Holy crap, y'all. It's hard to work the most stressful parts of my job when a giant flare hits me. I had no choice the last two days. I have been wheeling and dealing, trying to make this thing work, and I'm about to go to bed a second night not knowing where I stand. I negotiated all day with a listing agent, to the point that I rewrote an offer (twice, because I second guessed myself), and submitted it this afternoon. I never heard back. I have no idea whether we are under contract at all. And considering it is so late on a Friday night, I am just not going to call and badger the woman. I feel so physically burned up, I will deal with the fallout tomorrow morning. We either do or do not have a contract. I can't bring myself to find out now.
I don't know if the flare is from too much stress with too little sleep, something I ate on the way home from a sales meeting yesterday, or the sheer capriciousness of my disease. I'm going with D) all of the above. It's time to change out of the jammies I wore all day (or at least after a shower just before noon), and get into swimwear. I'm going to finish off a bottle of wine in the hot tub, and pretend I don't hurt so much. Leave tomorrow for tomorrow.
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