. . . slipping, into the future. As you might have guessed, we're STILL waiting on that relocation assistance paperwork. That makes me as nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs, as I cross my fingers that the house we want will still be available when we can actually make an offer. Of course, the office that holds our fate in its hands is an entity unto itself. That means that they can take their sweet old time, with no repercussions--and they are moving about as fast as molasses in winter. It's times like these I wish my husband had a regular job.
Speaking of Husband Fixture, even he has started to get nervous. He has sent the realtor an email asking whether it would be advisable to go ahead and submit an offer, contingent upon the relocation paperwork being signed. We've been told every day this week that it should be done, "by tomorrow," and yet it still hasn't happened. Tick tock, tick tock . . .