I may have sort of kind of forgotten what a colossal pain in the ass it is to move. Perhaps I blocked it out, much like labor. (“See, I have a beautiful child here! I know nothing of this searing pain and ruined anatomy of which you speak!”) Like that.
The phone has become my constant companion. I need to talk to lots of people. They are not interested in my pool or my gazebo, but they would very much like to make sure that their bills follow me wherever I may go, so we’re spending a lot of time making sure that that can happen.
Also Otto and I need to talk approximately twenty times a day to go over important matters such as WHOSE SILVERWARE SHALL REIGN SUPREME (mine) and SHOULD WE GET NEW DINING ROOM FURNITURE RATHER THAN MOVE MINE (yes) and WHAT COLOR IS THE PAINT IN THERE (beige). Already our marriage is all about timeless romance.
I also spent some time talking to folks about the whole School Situation (capital letters… that’s like going into orange alert) now that I can proudly proclaim that we have an address in the correct district now, so can we talk about how we really really really really want this other school that the children weren’t assigned to? And how it would be ever so much better in particular for Monkey, who has a 504 Plan, which is supposed to mean they have to accommodate him because he is Special and Preshus?
Part of what I found out is that Monkey is second on the waiting list for the school we want. You’d think that would be good, but there’s rarely any movement OUT of that school. Also, it’s unclear if—should we successfully state the case for Monkey to be moved—that then gets Chickadee a free pass for placement as well. (The policy is that siblings stay together unless you ask for them to be separated, but no one seems to know what that means in cases of exceptions.) I’m sure I could think of a few things I’d rather do than have my kids in two separate elementary schools… like… ummmm… well… I’m sure there’s SOMETHING… but in general I’d have to say I’d rather they stay together.
I mean, really, who is Chickadee gonna beat up on the bus if Monkey isn’t there with her?
Also today I called up LL Bean to ask some questions about their rolling bookpacks. (Don’t be jealous of my exciting life.) You see, the handle was recently redesigned and we have the old design and the handles are SATANIC. They are impossible to put down. Chickadee has given up on rolling hers and only wears it on her back, rather than wrestling with the handle. Monkey rolls his but leaves the handle up, which is rather inconvenient in the car or when I’m tripping over it in the mudroom. So I called to see if the new handles work better.
Of course, Bean is awesome, and the CSR answered my questions and listened to my plight and then happily reminded me that under their unconditional guarantee, I can exchange the defective packs at no charge. So we’re getting new ones! With handles that hopefully function!
And as that was pretty much the highlight of my day, I may have told the nice lady on the phone that I wanted to have her babies. Then I rushed to clarify that I was just kidding, you know, because I don’t have a uterus anymore. And then I wrapped it all up with a suave, “Okay, so, I’m going to stop talking now, but THANK YOU FOR ALL YOUR HELP!”
After a long discussion with my realtor I’ve decided to burn this house to the ground. HAHAHAHAHA. I’m just kidding. Because obviously if I was going to do that, I wouldn’t write about it on my blog. Writing it means I am just fantasizing about it. In reality, I’ve decided to assume this house will never sell, and instead focus all of my attention on being as annoying as possible to Otto about getting HIS house sold. I think that’s practical.
In other news, my cordless mouse seems to be going supernova; it ate through a few sets of batteries before I figured out it was behaving strangely, and now it doesn’t work at all. I had to steal the (corded) mouse from the kids’ computer and they’re quite annoyed with me. I ordered a replacement and then realized it might’ve made more sense to, I don’t know, go to a STORE and BRING ONE HOME. But that would’ve involved leaving the house and the fifth round of “I don’t know, what sort of patio furniture do YOU like?”