light at the end of the tunnel

when i was growing up my mom used to (what am i talking about? she still does) tell this story about when she worked for the Department of Family & Children Services, in the Child Support Recovery division. it went something like this.... during a meeting with a non-paying father they are trying to set up a plan for him to quit shirking his duties, and in the course of that he tells my mom "miss, i mean its like i keep seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, but when i get to the end of the tunnel its my ex-wife standing there holding the flashlight." we are pretty sure he was dead serious. which makes it funnier. but it is kind of how i feel right now. its like i can see the light at the end of the tunnel, but when i get to the end of the tunnel its really just the light reflecting off the pen im supposed to use to "sign here" for like the millionth time.

i can't focus on the fact that we are going to get a house out of all of this, because of all the other complicated mess that goes with it. i keep jumping through all these hoops and going here and running there, and i totally forget that at the end there will be a house.

a house for our little girl to grow up in. maybe she will remember this house as fondly as i remember the one i grew up in. which coincidentally we got to walk through this past weekend. luckily we are friends with the people that bought it from us some seventeen years ago. seventeen years?!?!?!? wow.

its the best.house.ever.