We have entered the final week, and that means that by the end of this weekend, 95% of everything I own must be packed, given away, or trashed. I sort of hate packing, so I'm mostly getting rid of stuff. Do you need anything? Air conditioner? Dining room set? Some toddler-sized clothing that I still have for reasons unclear even to me? How about some maternity clothes? (Why yes, I was last pregnant over seven years ago. What's your point?) Chris definitely started me on the right track and now if you stop by my house you will certainly leave with a carful of stuff. So. Come on over. I went...
I can now say I've started packing. Hi! I've started packing! Dude. Should you ever need to pack up a whole house in a couple of weeks, you should totally lure Chris to your house. She is brutal but effective. Had my children been home this weekend I feel certain that she may have talked me into giving them to Goodwill. She takes no prisoners, and she is vehemently opposed to packing anything extraneous. Which---according to her---pretty much covers everything I own. But it's hard to argue with someone who volunteered to come help you wade through and box up all your crap, you know? We...
Oh, my pretties. The stories I will tell you. The things I'll be able to spill, once this is all over and done. The tales with which I'll be able to regale anyone who might be thinking about trying to sell a couple of houses and buy a new one... well, it'll make you go home and kiss the floor in gratitude, I'm sure. But right now, a good portion of it will have to wait. Fingers are crossed and prayers are being said and once we are all settled in and I am no longer waiting for the sky to fall---assuming that point ever comes, that is---I will say more. For right now, I can tell you two...
Happy Memorial Day weekend! Or, as I like to call it, Happy Can't Get A Decent Price On A Plane Ticket So Instead Of A Naked Weekend With Your Husband You'll Be Stuck At Home Taking Care Of Someone Else's Dog weekend! Oh, like YOU don't call it that, too. I really LIKE dogs, you know. And I especially like other people's dogs because I can GIVE THEM BACK after a while. You may recall that I had a very exciting dogsitting adventure a couple of years ago, from which I have only recently recovered. But I've kept this particular (smallish) dog for my friends before, and so when they asked me if...
Hmmmm... I think I wasn't clear about Otto's brothers in my last post. But thanks to all of your suggestions, I think we have our monikers worked out. The brother who DID SO PRACTICALLY BEG FOR A NICKNAME regardless of whatever damage control he's trying to do now is definitely going to be Nearly Nickless from now on. He is not, however, the brother who came through with the GPS. That brother shall henceforth be known as Wild Thing. Assuming that Nearly Nickless continues speaking to me after I publish this, if he wants to top Wild Thing's wedding gift, I suppose he could get us a pony. Or...
For a while I couldn't bear to talk about it, so I think the last update I gave you on how it's been going with the house is this one. Our friends the Lowballs (secondarily dubbed the Oddballs by Otto) waited for a week after their second showing and then made a second---only slight less ridiculous---offer on the house. There was some back and forth and then they vanished (again). Yesterday I had two showings, and I dutifully vacated the house for the first one but happened to still be here when the second showing arrived. GUESS WHO IT WAS! No, really, GUESS! Yes, it was our friends the...
I had THINGS to do today, and STUFF to say, and I was planning to write about this copy of The Dangerous Book for Boys that I received, too. [Monkey: Does it shoot poison darts? Me: Nooooo.... Monkey: Is it filled with sharp knife blades? Me: Um, no. Monkey: Well then why is it DANGEROUS? Me: Hey, they have instructions for the best paper airplane in here--- Monkey: COOL! GIMME!] But none of that matters now. None of it. Do you know why? I will tell you why. I can sum it up in one word: Lice. Just in case you didn't catch that: LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIICE! Nothing shatters a day's orderly plans...
I went to the spaaaaaaaaaaaa (I say it just like that, you know, because it is FANCY with more As) today and had a pedicure. It was lovely. An extremely gay man checked me in and took my jacket and fetched me a cup of coffee, and after a bit a sweet young thing took me into the nail room. I arranged myself in the big chair (heated herbal neck wrap! aahhhh!) and stuck my winter-hardened, craggy feet into the bubbly whirlpool. I leaned back, sighed, and told the nail girl that I loved her. I think she was scared. I drank my coffee and read my book and tried not to flinch or scream while she...
Here's the thing about being FINE FINE FINE in the face of a steady stream of stress: Eventually, something breaks. When those people came into my house and broke the soap dish off the wall yesterday, maybe if everything else was dandy that wouldn't have been a big deal. But there's a lot going on, and so many changes happening, and as a result, it was a big deal. It was a very big deal. I broke. First I was angry and indignant, as I repaired the tile last night, and as I tossed and turned in bed, trying to sleep. And then this morning, as I tried to pry open the tube of caulking and it...
