The Rolly Coaster

OK. Here's how the first four days of house hunting went:
Friday we go out with Sarah's sister, Liz. We love her. We see a couple ok places: a very small town home and then a funky little house with an Anne Frank attic and maybe a funny smell in the background.
Then, we go to this... this...I don't know, I don't want to gush, but it was fabulous. Four bedrooms. Two fireplaces. Three bathrooms. Cute yard right up against a greenbelt. We checked the bus lines on Liz's iPhone, quite doable commute. Oh, have I mentioned the hardwood floors? And cheap! Well, not cheap, but within our meager budget. We had Liz call the agent right there. She left a message. I had my doubts right away that we'd get it, so I said we should push on and check out our last house of the day.
Well, we didn't even get down the block before the agent called back to say there were already three offers on the table. (Damn table.) We trudge on, our shoulders sagging a little, to the last place. Which was OK. But after the two fireplace house, it just had no sparkle.
Saturday was just a bad day. I had been looking forward to a Printer's Devil Theater meeting/in-town retreat for weeks and weeks. It was kind of going to be the high light of a difficult month. A whole day where I could feel like a writer again. Long story short, Jeff cut his finger pretty bad slicing potatoes and I had to leave the meeting about twenty minutes after it started. (And then get scolded later in the day because I seemed more upset about the aborted gathering than I did about the injured finger.)
OK, so while Jeff was getting a stitch and a tetanus shot, I wipe away the tears and poked around online and found a nice house. When Jeff got home from the ER, he agree. We got a hold of Liz and she arrainged for us to meet there on Sunday morning before an open house she had.
Oh, this cottage! Smaller than Ms. Two Fireplaces, but cute. On nice lot. Good layout. Closer to where Jeff works. Close to some friends. Straight shot to downtown on the bus. We fell in love all over again.
Liz calls. We part. Jeff and I cruise the neighborhood, take Pullo for a walk in a near by park. We go home. Stupidly we start to mentally plant things in the garden, figure out where the furniture will go.
Liz calls. She says they have another offer, but we could come in strong. We go into her office on Sunday evening, draft up an offer that sweetens the pot a little. Sign and initial the hell out of that offer, Jeff doing so with bandaged hand.)
We cross our finger and go home.
Jeff's exhausted. Nobody has slept well, so he calls into work on Monday.
Liz phones about ten, the seller has gone with the other offer.
Here's where we see how differently Jeff and I react to disappointment. Me? I like an initial overreaction: sky's falling, it's the end of the world. I collapse, but briefly. Soon, often after a good night's sleep, I pick myself up, good as new and am ready to face the world.
Jeff on the other hand, got a little rabid. He sat down at the computer and, with only a couple breaks, started looking at listing after listing until seven that night. It scared me. I kept trying to get him to take a break, to no avail. And, if I voiced doubt about a property (oh, have I mentioned that every ten minutes he'd say, "Honey, come look at this one") I was somehow sabotaging the home search.
Oooooh.
Today is only day five. I'll keep you posted.