It's Not THAT Awkward, Is It?

"I'm going to my editor's house for a meeting," I say to my husband, giddy inside. How important does it feel after years of daily appointments with the Diaper Genie to have a meeting?! With an editor. That I need to take my laptop to. (read: itsy, bisty, teenie, weenie notebook computer that I love)
-it's not that awkward that when I pull into her neighborhood (which happens to be my favorite neighborhood of all time) I gawk and ooh and aah and any ounce of professionalism I might have left the house with flies right out of my head, is it?
-it's not awkward that when she opens her door, I gush, "Forgive me, but I'm going to drool over your house now!", is it?
-it's not awkward when, because of my doggy-like panting over her kitchen, she offers to give me a tour of the house and I practically shout "Yes please!" right in her face, is it?
-it's not awkward that during aforementioned tour, I'm fitting my furniture into her house, is it? Oh, did I mention I was doing that out loud? She could hear me say, "Wow, our bed would look so good in here!" or "This would be perfect for when my in-laws come visit!" or "Oh my gracious! Homeschool room! Yes!" That's not awkward, right?
-is it awkward that, recognizing my ridiculous behavior, I mellowed out and opened my notebook computer, only to find that when I dropped it the night before I shattered the screen from the inside. Ugh. Then I'm frantic to convince her, "No worries, I can easily get the six chapters from the new book off of here. Um, I mean, obviously, I don't have to worry about that because of course I backed them up onto a thumb drive. Pffft. No worries. He, he, he." (Insert deep panic inside)

That's not that awkward, right? I mean, she might not ever suggest the meeting at her house again, but...that's not because of me...right? Guys?
Who am I kidding? I should count my blessings that the Diaper Genie will still hang with me after the great debacle of 2010.