Does anyone else feel like time oddly stands still this time of year? I mean, it's moving like crazy in the sense that you have to finish all your shopping and wrap all your presents and bake all your cookies and dress up for all your cocktail parties, but when it comes to actual things that need to happen nothing does. For example, this has to be the worst time of year to have your house on the market, right? Who's sitting around on December 20th and thinking to him/herself "Gee. I'd really like to go look at a house tomorrow. Honey, do you think we can squeeze that in before supper club at our neighbor's house?"
Then again, there's someone out there ready to take advantage of the season's seemingly slow turn of events to sweep in and take possession of your latest obsession. What is all this cryptic talk? I'm saying [sigh] that the pool house is now under contract. I have daydreams that the house is really mine--that Alex and the kids and I will drive past it on Christmas morning and there will be a big red bow on the front door and Alex will say, "Surprise! I didn't know what to get you for Christmas this year, so I bought you a house." I'm holding on to that dream in a Miracle on 34th Street kind of way, and I can't wait until Christmas morning. Yes Virginia, there is a Santa Claus.
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