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Last night we got a call from our agent. The owners of that house we really love have decided to not rent it, as they'd originally said when they took it off the market. But they don't want to relist. They don't know what the hell they want to do, so they told their former agent to call our agent, as well as the people who had the contract fall through in December.

About an hour ago, we officially made an offer on that house we really, really love.

Oh, but that's not all! Today's the first day our house is officially on the market and available for strangers to tramp through it while I'm not home to control what they touch. Like I said, we've been hard at work, but there was stuff still to be done. Like, a good, thorough cleaning. No biggie. The housing market sucks right now, so it's not like someone's going to look at our house the first day it's available.

This morning I took Clara Jane to daycare, then stopped by my coffeehouse of choice. I'd just settled into a comfy chair with a gigantic cappucino and my knitting. The guys sitting next to me struck up a conversation regarding sock-knitting. One of them asked, "So, uh, are you going to knit two, or just the one?" I refrained from saying, "No, just one. I knit for amputees." As my reward, my cell phone rang.

Now, it's 10:00. My house has officially been on the market for an hour. And here's my agent on the phone, telling me that another agent's going to bring people over to see the house at 1:30.

I think I threw my half-knitted sock at those guys in my rush to take my coffee to the counter, transfer it to a go-cup, and get my ass home. Suddenly, all the work we've been doing to the house was woefully inadequate. I made a mental list as I rushed home of everything I needed to do in three and a half hours:

1. Shovel snow off front steps.
2. Finishing painting bathroom woodwork.
3. Build second bathroom.
4. Replace nasty shower curtain.
5. Sweep every room.
6. Find a place to store my hounds.
7. Wash dishes.
8. Scrub toilet.
9. Remove large fallen branches from roof.
10. Clean gutters.
11. Remove old carpet from sunroom and replace with new carpet that's been in basement for six months.
12. Organize the equivilent of a blown-the-hell-up Toys R Us.
13. Remove all poop from boxes, cans, and secret corners where animals sometimes do dirty, dirty things.
14. Grow grass.
15. Clean up the two melted frozen yogurt pops I accidentally left on the counter this morning.
16. Make a Prozac smoothie for extra sustainance.
17. Remove all bourbon from the house. Best place to store bourbon: down my gullet.

I managed to complete most of the items on my list. Well, the important ones, anyway.

The dogs made a trip to the dog groomer. We love our dog groomer. Really. This woman is a saint to all dogs, and possibly rats and chirpy little birds that make me nervous. Whatever. She loves my dogs and took them in today at no charge, just to hang out. She insists that we do this whenever our house is shown, and we don't even have to call her first.

Of course, there was a slight problem when Murphy walked in and found herself nose-to-crate-to-nose with a St. Bernard. I mean, that's like fifty weiner dogs all in one! She got over it. Or maybe she didn't. It's Murphy, and you never can tell with her.

Anyway, Clara Jane and I are home, and I have no idea if they actually showed the house. The agent didn't sign in, but I'm pretty sure I saw new footprints in the snow. Also, I'm pretty sure I left the basement door open. When we got home, it was closed and my cat was having a breakdown because she was trapped! In the basement! With her food and water! And litterbox! And several of her favorite beds! Unfortunately, she's not telling what transpired in my absence.

After cleaning the house, I had two hours before picking up Clara Jane. I figured I had two options: 1) drink heavily, or 2) go to Wild Oats for a salad and 10-minute chair massage. I went with #2, because I'm obviously a health nut.

Let's hope this house sells fast. I don't do well in stressful situations. Many more days like today, and I'll spend our entire down payment on hooch and public rub-downs by hippies.