My Zen-like facade of coolness is cracking. I am getting pi$$ed. Why is this place not already under contract? OK, now, I must learn to be patient. "Grasshopper, patience is the key." According to this local realtor, houses just at or above my range are on the market at this time for 30-45 days. So that makes me feel better. Still, one freaking offer by now would make me feel a lot better. The truth is, I want things to proceed at my schedule, and The Market will not suffer such arrogance. It knows only one thing: what it wants. It is a great seething merciless beast that shows no remorse or mercy. It's not unlike a really bad case of food poisoning or sea-sickness.

Well, assuming closing is a month away at least from any signed contract, I just have to resign myself to the fact that I will have to fly ("I don't like airplanes, Hannibal!") down here again from Rochester to sell this place when in fact it does sell. Is having to close a sale on your old house a valid excuse these days for skipping a class or two? Guess I'll find out the hard way.