glazed over

and I don't mean donuts.
Not even bacon maple glazed from VOODOO DONUTS in Portland. This whole moving thing. Shopping for a house, finding a house getting out bid on a house, repeat.

I have Sworn up and down that I hate "cookie cutter subdivisions" and will never live in one-- then Petey found a near perfect house (a purple Victorian. It looks like they plucked it up from San Francisco and plopped in down on the edge of this sub division. It has it's barns and out buildings and four acres (so I can practice archery for FREE!!) but the people whose backyard touches our backyard?

They are the outer edge of a subdivison. Now, truthfully we can only see four of "them" from the driveway,and they are different colors-- but we will have to drive by them every day. But it has a VIKING RANGE and double ovens AND a fireplace. But then we have to actually let go of this house and this is MY house damn it.

We have a wonderful wonderful agent named Anna. She and Pete have all sorts of emails flying back & forth--all filled with scary numbers of immense proportions and frankly it makes my head spin. I tried to rationalize this whole pretend numbers thing by thinking about buying BBQ sauce. We like Sweet baby Ray's and it was on sale at Hiller's 3 for $5. I can comfortably stand there and figure the price per ounce and see a good deal and purchase three bottles of BBQ sauce without batting an eyelash. Why is comprehending square footage of real estate any different? Buying BBQ sauce doesn't make my stomach hurt or my head spin.