Disappointment. So Hard to Handle.

This kitchen approaches the closest reckoning of my dream kitchen that I’ve seen in years. Gas cooktop. Electric oven. Combination of shelves and cabinets.

Cool, stainless steel refrigerator.

Open passageways to the dining room — and a breakfast counter for stools.

I don’t love the cabinet color or the floor tile, but both of those elements are easy, affordable fixes.

For two hours and 30 minutes today, I thought the kitchen was mine.

And then I learned from my real estate agent that her associate did not deliver my signed acceptance of the counter-offer to the seller’s agent until an hour after I asked her to send it. Meantime, the seller accepted another offer — probably 45 minutes after my acceptance should have been delivered.

And then I realized my agent blamed me for the deal going sideways, not accepting responsibility for her associate’s inaction. So instead of simply being sad about losing the house — and my dream kitchen it contained — I feel sad about the loss, angry about the deception and heartbroken about the prospect of another year of looking for a home for me and my son.

While the headline for this post is taken from a down-tempo, yet optimistic song, “Lighting Candles,” by The Weepies, the point is best expressed by Michael Stipe, of R.E.M., in “Ignoreland”:

“I know that this is vitriol. No solution, spleen-venting,
But I feel better having screamed. Don’t you?”

Not quite — so, for now, I’ll settle for “spleen-venting.”

And a new real estate agent.

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