Grand Cayman, Here I Come

Monday morning at an obscenely early hour, while The Banker and Becca sleep, I'll sneak away to catch a flight to the Grand Cayman Island. For a week. With a gaggle of gals.

I've never taken a girl's vacation before, and, admittedly, the timing is less than ideal. But when someone dangles a FREE stay at a private residence at the Ritz Carlton, well, you'd be kinda insane to pass it up. And so I find myself in the usual Mommy Conundrum--How to go and enjoy myself without letting the guilt take over?

This trip, for all intensive purposes, is free (minus food, drink, and SHOPPING. Did I mention the SHOPPING?!?). But The Banker and I have some serious costs looming: moving expenses, new carpet for the house, fencing the yard, and all sorts of necessities to fill this larger house. But that guilt pales in comparison to abandoning my babe and very tolerant husband for five days. In the midst of packing hell.

I'm rationalizing that this will be the break I've been in desperate need of for, say, the last six months or so. And I'm hoping it will be renewing and reinvigorating enough so that I can return to pack, move, move again, and unpack all without losing my cool...too much. I'll do some scuba diving, some reading (yes, I know. So selfish. But all I want to do is READ. Uninterrupted. For more than 10 minutes at a time.), some beaching and pooling, and hopefully some delicious eating and drinking. And maybe some shopping. Maybe.

So I'll see you all again in on the 31st. Pray that The Banker, Becca, and I find this to be a good couple of days.

Grand Central Station

Three plumbers and three electricians (two trailing dried mud and spewing plaster) paraded through my house today. But it's finished--the electrical problems and the various other demands that the buyers had put forth. And so now the count is on till our closing, some 28 days. I cannot tell you how great it feels to have strange, messy men out of my house.

So while I'm still buried under one lingering bit of freelance, I can sort of see the light at the end of the tunnel. Sure, there's the packing, the moving, the shacking with the in-laws for a week, then two weeks with my parents, and then cleaning and moving into the new home...but before that is a promise of a get-away. Something I've never experienced before, something that will carry with it no small amount of guilt, but will also hold the renewing properties of warm sand, soft, lapping waves, and unexplored horizons. And I'll need all that peace to carry me through the next month.

Nightmare

The inspection lasted some three hours yesterday with the buyers and the real estate agent in tow. I had to entertain Becca, stay out of the way, but be on call to answer questions. That morning, my body finally screaming for mercy from all this stress, succumbed to a head cold and terrible sore throat.

The inspector (who was not a registered electrician), tried to trip a GFI outlet in our main-floor bathroom. In doing so, he shorted out some five lights (and the outlet). He left--without fixing the problem--and told me that by replacing the outlet the problem would be solved. The Banker returned from a golf tournament last night to one pissed-off wife. In short order, he too was angry. He replaced the outlet...and nothing.

An electrician has been here since 8:45 this morning (I barely had time to throw on a hat and jeans), and after over two hours, he can't solve the problem. He keeps asking if there's another GFI outlet somewhere in the house, but to our knowledge, there isn't one. Every light fixture and outlet in my house has been disconnected and is dangling, all the ugly wires exposed. The floor is filthy with plaster, dust, and whatever the electrician has tracked in.

My sore throat is now accompanied by the chills and sheer exhaustion. And tonight The Banker was going to take me to dinner and to see The Police for my Mother's Day gift. Neither of us feel like celebrating. This nightmare can kill our sale.

I'm trying to keep things in perspective. We're incredibly lucky and right now there's so much heartache in the world. But my own heart hurts, along with various other body parts. It's all too much. Please, Lord, help us!

Pins and needles

We accepted an offer on the house--for our full asking price!!--but we're not in the clear yet. We have to pass the appraisal and inspection hurdles, which leaves us on pins and needles. Even more nerve-wracking is the knowledge that this couple backed out on another house just a few weeks ago based on the inspection findings.

Hear that glub, glub? That's my stomach flip-flopping and my left over Cinco de Mayo meal slushing about. Come on clean inspection and appraisal equal to our selling price!!