On Google maps, there's a little "real estate" box you can tick, and it will show you all the houses around a particular address that are in various stages of foreclosure. It is very eye-opening. You can zoom out and back and see all the little orange dots appear, each one representing a "distressed homeowner," as the realtors' details term them. There sure are a lot of distressed people.
In doing this I found out that my very own neighbor, Rebel Yelling Mom--who long-time blog readers may remember--her house is going to be sold at auction. We don't talk so I didn't know, but I imagine this is not what they wanted to have happen.
I wish we were buying a house now instead of in 2006.
And speaking of distressed people, my mind is occupied tonight with thoughts of our very own Normal Neighbor, my friend, who has to have a breast biopsy in the morning. She is pretty worried, as you can imagine. I believe that it will turn out to be fine, but I hate that she has to go through it, both the procedure and the anxiety of waiting for the results. I couldn't even say very much to her about it. I didn't want to say, "Man, that biopsy is going to hurt." I just told her that it would most likely be fine, and it will.
I was trying to figure out if knowing me--and watching me go through all the junk I had to do in the last nine months--would be reassuring to her as she deals with this anxiety, or would have the opposite effect. I asked Pretty Neighbor what she thought and she said she didn't know. I don't either. Obviously I am still here and feeling great, so that's an encouraging truth, but Normal Neighbor had a front-row seat for all the difficult and downer moments along the way. I hate that she has to go through this moment of fear. I'll keep you posted.
Hard times all over.
Finally, edited to add: Normal Neighbor got the all-clear on her biopsy. Before she heard, she told me that during the procedure, the radiologist told her that the mass didn't look malignant. NN said, "But I guess they say that to everybody." I was like, "Oh no they don't!" During my biopsy the radiologist said, "Huh, that looks weird." Awesome feeling, that was.
And a bone scan I had for utterly no reason on Tuesday was also clean. You see, one thing I like to do for the holidays is submit myself to medical testing that carries a slim, slim chance of finding anything wrong with me but that nonetheless gives me 48 hours of anxiety and gloom. Sugarplums! Remind me not to do that again unless I have a really, really good reason.
Now I am off to Costco (now that's what's crazy) to get a poinsettia and to open a bottle of wine actually in the aisle, right between the bagels and the rechargeable batteries.
I love you all.