There's a church I pass on my way to work, and it has a sign with sayings--not funny ones, usually, but ones intended to be inspirational. I keep reading this week's message as "Fleas don't have to master you." I suppose that could be inspirational, if you were a dog. Don't let your bloodsucking parasites get you down! You're still the dominant life form! Without you they'd die. You are truly their master! Even if they do make you itch unbearably.
Actually, of course, it says "Fears don't have to master you."
Someone and his realtor is in my house right now, looking around. I'm glad I stayed up last night to do the dishes. The Agent came by yesterday and made me sign a billion papers (actually, though, not so many as when I became a new employee at work) and took pictures (I had to keep moving stuff out of the way; I don't think my house is that messy, but it's not display quality) and put a sign up in my yard and it's all official. It's crazy. I kept thinking it ought to be harder to make a move of this magnitude (or at least expense). It feels a little creepy to know that someone and his realtor is looking through every room of my home, opening the closets, checking the water pressure. Noticing that the closet doors are still off the closet. I left them off when I was painting, you know, and never put them back. The Agent attempted to do this for me before he left, but the carpet is too thick and the doors need to be sawn down. The person who's in my house didn't have an appointment, just saw the house and called The Agent because he (or she; I don't know) wanted to see inside. (This despite the overgrown grass and the piles of weeds and sticks. It is a pretty house.) Maybe if he likes it enough he won't ask me to put the closet doors up at all and it'll be his problem.
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