the time i poisoned our appraiser

today was a long awaited day for travis and me. today was the day our house was appraised. supposedly tomorrow we close...? but their realtor, who is seriously insane, is convinced we don't close til the end of march.

anyway. it's never for sure in this house selling business, but back to the story.

our realtor texted me yesterday asking if wednesday at 1:30 worked for the appraisal. i was thrilled, because travis would actually be home for something having to do with selling the house. as fate would have it, he's always at work when there are showings, house inspections, or realtor walk-throughs, and thus, all duty and responsibility rests upon my small, too-young-for-this, shoulders.

so today, i let travis answer the door when the appraiser came over. i felt free to lay on the couch and study for the test i have in roughly an hour, and let the hot rice bag sit on my uterus and do its magic work on my terrible cramps. thanks so much copper iud. i hear the guy come in, not take off his shoes, tsk, and talk to travis in a deep manly voice. turns out he just finished paramedic school and recognized travis from when travis taught in his class. (one of travis's various occupations is teaching paramedic school at the university of utah, i know, badass.) distracted from my notecards displaying things like, panic disorder, major depressive disorder, suicide, (super fun, yeah?) i listen as travis asks the appraiser if he thinks our home will appraise high enough for the underwriter to give his stamp of approval. since i have done almost all of the face-to-face work of selling our home, i feel a little responsible for making sure everything goes smoothly.
"what all have you guys done remodel wise?" i hear the appraiser ask.
travis starts listing things. "well, new roof, windows, tile,"
i'm going crazy worrying if he's going to get it all, so i start yelling things out.
travis- "oh don't mind my wife, she's just in there studying."
oh yeah, i guess that 's weird for a voice to just start yelling out things like, "garbage disposal, insulation in the attic!" right?
the appraiser yells hello, and i tell him we have cookies in case he takes bribes. he politely laughs and says he does. then he goes about his business, looking in all the rooms. the appraiser has a magnificent soul patch, and when he's not looking, travis and i waggle our fingers under our lips to silently mock the appraiser's facial growth. yep, grownups.
oh also, i hadn't showered, and i kinda forgot to put on a bra. until the appraiser got there and then i felt super awkward. red shirt, red sweats, mismatched socks, and unbrushed hair. lookin' pretty fine, i must say.
so at the end, he and travis were talking in the kitchen, and i decided it was time to offer a cookie. i did not bake these cookies, as i never bake because i am always at school, but some sweet ladies in my neighborhood had dropped them off. i had taken a bite of one earlier, and then put it back onto the plate, because i'm gross like that, and i remembered this as i was pulling out the plate. i strategically opened the saran wrapped side across from my bite-taken-cookie, hoping he would never see it.
of course he reaches in, past the huge cookie i wanted him to grab, and his hand lands right on my cookie.
of course, i don't say anything, not about the bite, or the terrible cold i have, no i just watch in slow motion fashion as the man who has a huge say in whether or not our house sells smoothly, picks the cookie that could potentially end his life. 

ha, ha, just a joke. but it could give him a nasty cold. plus what's going to happen when he looks down and sees teeth marks in a crescent moon shape disrupting the circular flow of that beautiful chocolate peanut butter goodness??? 
i never saw him put it in his mouth. he kind of awkwardly carried it in the palm of his hand and i awkwardly followed him around, waiting to see what would happen. because by then, it was too late. travis kept looking at me, obviously not understanding the "I JUST MESSED UP" eyes i was shooting him.
until i told him in a whisper after the appraiser left.
because what if the appraiser had supersonic whale ears (?) and was standing on our porch, listening!?!

can you tell i have been studying abnormal psychology all week? yeah reading all those symptoms of "crazy people" and here i am in my red sweats, wild guilty eyes, poisoning our appraiser....