I put an offer in on a house on Saturday, and immediately after, called my mother to fix all the mistakes I made in the process. She did so, instantly, and with aplomb.
I spent the rest of the day in hiding, taking cautious inhalations and deliberate exhalations, panicking and calming myself with rationale and focaccia.
"What's the worst that could happen!" I cliched glibly, and then I realized it should have been a question. "No, seriously, tell me: what is the worst thing that could happen?"