I don’t think that’s the only reason, though. It’s definitely one reason – here my dream house is going up for auction starting at $10,000 and I can’t buy it. That’s grounds to be a little bummed.

For those who are wondering why not: terms of sale are cash, for one thing; and I already have a mortgage on the little condo Canuck and I are calling home, for another. Unloading a property in Michigan in this economy is the stuff prayers are made of (which is why that house is up for auction right now). Besides, on my salary we’re in no position to maintain a house like that. Even if we got the house for $40 or $50 K, and could finance it, what happens when you need a new roof, or the septic field – which I guarantee that house has – goes kaputt? Old houses need ready cash. (Just ask my poor dad, who has owned several, including a notorious money pit about fifty years older than the house we’re talking about, and a barn of a house from the 1920s that was, I gather, a nightmare to heat.)

Anyway. I can see that that’s part of what’s making me sad.

But I think more of it is that I’m looking at this 100+ year old house – maintained very well if the exterior is any indicator – that someone else has loved and lost.

People other than me loved this house enough to maintain it to last the past 108 years: through wars and the Depression and lots of lean times. And maybe it’s my imagination, but I think it looks like a house that’s held a lot of love. How do you fill four bedrooms, but with family and friends?

But the last someone who had this house…who knows? Maybe they couldn’t afford it when they bought it. Or maybe they bought a different house expecting to be able to sell this one (because it’s been on the market for some time), only to find that the bubble had burst, and they made two payments for as long as they could, until… Or maybe they lost a job – or two, or more - and simply ran out of savings.

I don’t personally know anyone who I know to have fallen in the first category, but I know plenty of people who fall in the other two. And I suppose a lot of what’s making me so sad about this house is that it reminds me of those people. It reminds me of friends and acquaintances who, through bad decisions or bad luck (and in some cases, both) have lost their financial footing and are trying to get it back in other, less economically ravaged areas. It reminds me of others I know who are on the edge, or near it, and who are living every day with the knowledge that that could happen to their house next.

Yeah.

I think that’s why I’m so sad to see it up for auction.

It’s Michigan in a nutshell.

It hit me this morning as I was driving to work. The last few days – well, really, almost a week – I’d been having little pity parties. Poor me this, I’m so ill-used that. You know. We all have them – at least, every person I know does – and hopefully we do our best to keep them to a minimum and in reasonable check.

When I was finishing my undergrad, I was researching a paper that dealt with the Serbian Orthodox Church’s responses to the fragmentation of Yugoslavia. I never ended up writing the paper – long story. However, the research I was doing included delving into a lot of European news services of the time, and reading all the stories related to the conflict and the region more generally. (I was looking for evidence of whether the church had spoken out, and if so, what had been said.)

Anyway. So I’m burying myself in news reports of the time, which (not surprisingly) are dripping with quotes from Serb leaders from Milosevic on down, plus the commentary from the church (which was, also unsurprisingly, pretty Serb-friendly), all of which goes on and on about how the Serbs are the real victims here, yadda yadda.

When you’re that immersed in propaganda, it’s hard to keep perspective. At one point I found myself getting very indignant on behalf of the poor beleaguered Serbs. I mean, what did they really do, anyway?

And then I shook myself and said, “Hello, self – Srebrenica?!?!” (Among other things, of course, but that was the one that jarred me back to reality.)

Now, my point isn’t that we should all hate on the Serbs. My point is that, given sufficient exposure to deceit, one can sometimes succumb to it and deceive oneself. Sometimes one needs a reality check.

And that’s what I’d been doing with my little pity parties.

So if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to sit down and make myself remember at least a dozen big blessings in my life. I have a job, for one, and it’s even one that I like. I have a roof over my head, and a car to drive between home and work (and hey, gas prices are down!). Food in my cupboards and the ability to buy more. A much-beloved fiancé, who has already received his visa to come here and marry me. The freedom to marry him in our church, without having to post guards at the door to tell us if government agents are coming to shut down the service and arrest the attendees. Family and friends whom I love and who love me. Two very sweet, very affectionate (if sometimes obnoxious) cats, and several more critters in my extended family. The prospect of children. Both parents (and step-parents) still living and reasonably healthy.

And that’s just a start. Anything I might have to complain about seems pretty meager compared to all that.

Canuck and Clam will each other wed.

I’m sure my resident atheist reader will be the first to point out that it was my purchases that afforded this particular abundance; but it still makes for a good headline.

Gentlemen: this post is going to deal with some explicitly feminine things. May I suggest you read no further?

Now. I went to Meijer last night (insert heavy sigh here – I hate going there, but they and Wal-Mart have the best prices on paper products). Normally I buy my…um…feminine products at Wal-Mart, because they have their Equate brand so much cheaper than the cheapest name brand, and let’s be honest: they work just as well, so why spend more?

Anyway. *ahem* Meijer’s brand was on sale, buy two get the second one half off. So, since I hate going, I stocked up. TBS teased me that it was a lifetime supply.

I just put them all away. It’s not a lifetime supply, but it is probably the better part of a year. I told Canuck that when I run out of these, we have to get me pregnant. Perhaps to change the subject, he suggested that I blog about this superabundance of super maxis. So. I have:

- Six 24 packs of Meijer maxi pads (144);
- Two 28 packs of Meijer overnight pads (56);
- Two 48 packs of Wal-Mart maxis (96);
- and an almost intact 32 pack of Stayfree super maxis (31).

Incidentally, as I’m looking at the price tags, I’d misremembered Wal-Mart’s pricing. They’re still considerably cheaper than Meijer. Just in case you were wondering. But I don’t think I’ll return what I already bought – live and learn (and avoid going back for as long as possible!).

I can’t honestly say that the entire weight has been lifted from my shoulders, but it is a bit like someone has rolled one of the boulders off the cart I’m pulling.

The consular official said he was “an ideal candidate,” and teased him that we already had enough lefties in the U.S.

I am so relieved. So, so relieved.

Thank you, Lord.

Thank you to everyone who prayed on our behalf.

Thank you, Blessed Mother.

Thank you, U.S. Government.

I could go sleep for a week now. If I didn’t have to work, and take care of cats, and volunteer at the Women’s Conference, that is. But yeah. I think I might take a nap on my lunch hour.

Good night, moon (or sun, in this case).

Now to try to focus on work again – it’s been a bit of a lost cause this morning, between the flu shot and the news.

Deep breaths.

I should have the official offer letter by the weekend.

It’s really not a pay raise to speak of (though I would be up for an increase in July), but I’d have more money in pocket. And what a blessing, to not get looked at like I have two heads when I mention my faith!!!

Thanks be to God!