I have been a bad, bad friend.

For years and years now, people around me — particularly, I’d say, the people I’ve worked with — have always marveled at how I managed to cram so much life into the hours of my days. Particularly since I rarely get less than seven hours’ sleep and always insist on having just a little wedge of goof-off time a day. There have been MANY times in my life — actually, more times than not — where I’ve been working and going to school, full time in one or both areas.

Last year around Thanksgiving I was getting ready to move into the rental house with Daniel while going through finals at TWU in the library science program, which — while not ideal — was at least manageable. I survived, anyhow, and somehow managed to keep my grades up.

I knew this whole doc thing would be different, and yet I’ve nevertheless convinced myself that it was entirely possible to go to school 9 hours a week, work 40 hours a week, AND go through the rigamorole of buying a house and moving in late October.

And honestly, HONESTLY, I was right. It is possible. Even given the inherent ups and downs of life, this wasn’t an experience destined to kill me.

But … alas. It hasn’t happened that way, and — let it be known here and now — I have *FOUND* my breaking point. Found it, in fact, around 5:30 p.m. yesterday.

I have spent so much time and energy freaking out, on varying levels, about the neverending demands made by my mortgage people. Every single time I’ve given them something in the last two weeks, they’ve come back and said, “OH, wait, we need something else …” or, “OH, wait, that’s not QUITE right …”

My favorite, though, was when they asked me to get a letter from my boss (late last Thursday afternoon) confirming my annual cost-of-living pay increase, and when I asked her for it, she said, “I already gave that to them!” Still, we faxed them another letter … only to find out the next day from the mortgage guy, “OH, sorry about that Liz, I didn’t realize we already had that.”

I very nearly screamed bloody murder in his ear when he said that. Seriously. I am not in a mood to be trifled with.

So finally … and with no small amount of cajoling, bitching, crying, spazzing, and (I am not exaggerating) hyperventilating on my part lo these last 14 days or so, I believe this morning they got the last piece of paper they need to clear me for closing. Which was supposed to happen tomorrow at 9:30 a.m.

HA!

There’s been more happening than just school-related deadlines and wild-goose-chase-paperwork requests and Hurricane/disaster-insanity at work. In a way, some might argue that having other unpleasantries arise in the midst of this time could have been avoided until the distractions were cleared. And perhaps they’d be right. I dunno. Seems to me it’s really a crapshoot — do I overreact now because I’m overly emotional and stressed out anyway … or, do all things get proportionately less reaction now because of the competition?

So I tell y’all this to say, in a roundabout way, that if I’ve not been returning your calls, answering the phone, calling you (when I know I should), reacting to your life-shattering news in less than a two-week time period, responding to e-mails, and so forth, I promise, it’s not just you. It’s everyone. And I feel just *terrible* because of it.

PS: I’m going to the doctor today for a one-month checkup related to my blood pressure. I’ve been on a very light dose of BP meds the last month, and my doc wants to see how it’s taking. I think that’s funny. I’m quite sure nothing will have changed … in fact, I’m reasonably convinced it could actually be higher than normal today.

But, as Daniel SO astutely pointed out, my response to any worry she might have on that front is: “Just think about what it’d be if I HADN’T been taking the meds the last month!”