Anxiety, I have not missed you!

So I slept maybe five hours last night, none of them good. In the middle of it, I was actually standing in my bathtub scraping paint. I awoke about two after an anxiety dream about the uneven paint on my dining room wall and literally wanted to walk right in their and strip it all off. Luckily, part of my brain knew this was a stupid plan and, as a substitute, I scraped the plaster in my bathroom until my arms were tired and I thought sleep would come easily. It didn't. I tried masturbating, meditating, reading Katharine Anne Porter. (After all, what's more relaxing than reading a description of the savage beating of a New Orleans prostitute?) I think it was five before I finally dropped off--the sky was brightening and the birds singing at any rate. It's a miracle that I made it here only ten minutes late (perfect CTA connexions for once), but it came at the cost of not washing my hair.

I haven't had a bout of anxiety-induced insomnia like that in probably a year or more and I've been very glad of it. Unfortunately, it's the first of many, I fear. The agent we interviewed last night was very refreshing, telling us in so many words, "Selling your house sucks donkey ass, and I'm sorry in advance." She was more optimistic than the previous one, but also more "Sell! Sell! Sell!" And in an irony so rich it makes foie gras taste like paste, she explained that monshu's place (which he has literally scrubbed down with a toothbrush) can be sold as-is to a flipper, but mine will have to be staged picture-perfect for social climbers who want move-in condition. The amount of work it's going to take from me to get this thing on the market in under a month is really more than I want to contemplate right now--but last night it was all I could do.

Oh, and did I mention that on top of everything, I'm terrified of monshu seeing my progress on sprucing and straightening as a referendum on my commitment to the relationship? I mean, by now he has no excuse for not knowing what he's getting by agreeing to move in with me, but that still doesn't mean he won't be annoyed if he sees me dragging my feet. This last agent seems to think my place will move much quicker than his, which might give me more breathing room except that it's all such a huge crapshoot. The perfect buyer could stride into his apartment a week from now and make him an offer he'd be a fool to refuse. Then what? It hurts my head to think about it.

WotD: enjoy your meal!

1. Guten Appetit!
2. Eet smakelijk!
3. ¡Buen provecho!
4. Bon profit!
5. Bon appétit!
6. Mwynha dy bryd!
7. Bain taitneamh as do bhéile!
8. 맛있게 드세요!
9. 慢慢吃! mànmàn chī

Notes:
0. I would actually prefer "Bon appétit!" even when speaking English; "Enjoy you meal!" sounds like something a server would say.
6. Literal equivalent of the English; not in general use.
7. Ditto; see below for a generous list of alternatives.
9. Literally "Eat slowly!"

Moving on

Okay, I think I'm over this latest attack of the crazies. It actually helped that our realtor interview tonight was so disappointing, because it threw the positive qualities of our first choice into such high relief and made our decision a snap. (Thanks again to everyone who came forward with recommendations.) Every step we've taken so far seems to confirm how much monshu and I agree on the big things. And if that weren't reassuring enough, he came right out and said to me tonight that he essentially accepted years ago that I'm always going to be a lovable fuck-up and that I should let him know when I'm getting too stressed out by everything so that we can arrange some play time.

It's no coincidence that the woman we went with was the one with the most clearly-articulated selling strategy. It makes us feel good to know just what we have to do even if it involves things which, under normal conditions, we'd rather not blow a weekend on. This Saturday is the Closet From Hell at monshu's, which is something I've actually been wanting to tackle for years (along with the Cabinet of Containerslides under the sink). So I may actually need to temper my enthusiasm in order not to tire myself out too much in advance of that evening's Handel opera.

In other good news

Last night, before I left monshu's, I noticed that the Redbirds were getting slaughtered by Houston 8-2. I just checked the score of tonight's game and it's Cards over Astros, 6-1. Whoo-hoo! Way to go, Wainwright!