Patience - A Dying Art

Dear Non-Diary,

Lucy won't stop barking at the cat and Octavia (the cat in contention) is sauntering about the living room providing the dog with uncensored and unlimited agitation. Normally I would find this behavior amusing, but I'm hungry, sore and on the borderline of having a blooming onion sized headache, so right now I'd have to say no, I'm not impressed. Not one itsy bitsy little bit.

Thankfully food does help in stressful situations, and at the moment, something warm and yummy is high on my list of make Stacey happy. Tonight's dinner, brown rice topped with chili, is my idea of deliciously simple. And no fuss, no mess clean up is what I'm all about...

Back to the cat and the dog and the cat that never comes downstairs since the dog came home... I believe I'd be accurate in saying that the cat is kicking the dog's butt. And if that isn't a sad matter of fact, then I really don't know what is.

But enough about the animals that run my house... Or at the least the place where I presently live. I say that because I've begun what I'd like to call my downfall into poverty. Otherwise known as my search for a place to call home. Emphasis on home, as in mine right along with the monthly mortgage payment.

House hunting is far more stressful than I never gave it credit for however. All this run to this house, run to that house and imagine they could be yours is starting to wear me down so much that I'm not even safe from the thought in my dreams. And my realtor needs a bit of a reality check, like stop showing me houses that are at the highest end of my I really don't want to spend that much spectrum. A woman has to have some cash in her pocket without taking on another job to afford to live...

So I have to learn patience... And while I'm at it, I may take up juggling knives on a unicycle while singing show tunes. Hey, either one could happen... Right?

Well, maybe not... But I do know that with the present choices of houses available to be owned, there isn't a single jem among them that calls my name... Every single one has had one thing or another that keeps it from being the house I've dreamed of since I was old enough to want my own space.

You see, I've got this picture in my head of a cozy little cottage with a bright red door and the garden of all gardens filled with beautiful bouquets of color that says, "Finally... Welcome home."