We’re selling our house. And no one is buying it.
I’m not sure if you know what it feels like to deep clean your home at a moment’s notice with a screaming banshee toddler strapped to your calf, but it feels exactly like deep cleaning your home at a moment’s notice. With a toddler strapped to your calf.
I’ve been dancing this waltz for more than my fair share of weeks now and each night I go to bed and ask God the same question: “Why won’t somebody buy our house?” (I also stick with my go to prayer that I’ve been praying since I was twelve: Dear God, please make make my chest bigger. I’ll let you know when He hears me).