I am buying a house. It's beautiful. I'm in love with it. There is a huge master suite that includes a fabulous walk-in closet, bedroom designed for a king (and queen), and a bathroom with dual sinks a shower AND a tub, and a toilet in a room all by itself, then there is an enormous living room with an adjoining Florida room, and three, count 'em, THREE bay windows. The house is planted sweetly on a just quarter-acre lot with woods on three sides, settled a decent distance into a country club right on the Rainbow River. It is perfect. Truly perfect.
Okay ... maybe I've been under a bit of stress lately. I'll admit, I have a tendency to carry a packed schedule. And for the most part, I can do this quite well. But there are times -- and I think they come in waves -- that I need to gtfo and decompress. This is why you suddenly find out I went to the beach, or was MIA for an entire weekend. It happens. It's been happening for my entire adult life. Those who know me, either embrace it, or get over the fact that I'm not changing. But I have to confess, even for me, the schedule lately has been an overwhelming one. At the end of May I was looking at my calendar and realized from that day through the middle of July, there isn't a single vacant weekend. I wish I were kidding. As much as I love being busy and having parties, volunteering, getting together with friends for coffee, and all of that fun stuff, if I don't get to take a long, retardedly hot shower every few nights and turn my phone off from time to time, ...
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Congrats!