simplynutmeg.com

So we move into this in seventeen days:

Do you hear that hysterical cackling?

BEFORE

AFTER

If anybody needs to find us after June 30th we’ve found a little alley off of Fifth and Arch that might be able to fit two large refrigerator boxes.  The space is occupied right now but we’re aggressive.

Last weekend fell short of spectacular: I discovered my new job was a huge scam to rob me blind, the crazy lady we bought a house from had a nervous breakdown and rescinded our sale, and my aunt’s legs stopped working.

I’ve spent the past three days at the hospital waiting for my aunt to be taken to emergency spinal surgery which finally happened last night and she’s resting comfortably today, hopefully with her mobility in tact.  Time will tell.  And yes, every time a nurse gives her that morphine I ask for some.  I’m so boringly predictable.

As for the job, que sera sera, which translates to mean life can really suck rotten eggs sometimes.  But I’m over it.  I’m not bitter.  Really.

And now, since we’ve sold our house and shall be homeless in approximately fifty-four days, we’ll be house hunting this weekend.  We do however have a backup plan to Fifth and Arch.  We live very close to a train station with a large parking lot.  We thought maybe we’d pay the fifty cents a day for a parking space and just put a POD on it.  We could even pay for two and put the kids in one.  Oh, Hell.  Let’s spring for three spots and we can have a little backyard.  We’ll park the grill and the swing set.  Maybe we could cut our rent down by stacking two PODS on top of each other.  Then we could have an upstairs and a downstairs.  We’ll just add a contingency to the sale of our house: sellers will need to use the bathroom for up to six months following closing date.  Problem solved. 

I think I’ll paint the downstairs POD a light blue - I hear it makes a small space look bigger.  With some pops of red, of course.

I’m nothing if not an optimist. 

The cup is only half empty because it’s vodka and I keep chugging it.

Just what I need when I have more layers of stress than a spanish onion - swine flu.  One of my greatest fears in life after jail is pandemics.  (I never should have read Camus’s The Plague.)  Yesterday, just to hike up my anxiety a few more notches, I got the information about Rowan’s Friday field trip - to a farm.  Where they will be able to pet the animals.  And Nathan will be taking a group of students to New York City that day.  I’m planning on sending them both shrink wrapped and soaked in Purell.  I have enough of it to do so because after the morning news yesterday I went to my local CVS and bought every bottle of Purell they had.  I’m not even trying to be funny - I really did.  You know there will be a shortage of the stuff in a matter of days.

Did I also mention that my kids are all sick?  Every one of them is couching and has a soar throat.  And Finn has a rash.  Do you get a rash with the swine flu?  If only the swine flu made you oink.  Then I wouldn’t have to panic with every sniff and cough. 

On the upside, I should get back to regular blogging because I won’t be leaving the house for the next six months.  And you guys won’t even laugh at me for wearing this mask.

Just the same, even computers are very germy things, and I don’t recommend wiping them down with Purell because then some of thhhe kkeyss ssticck.

My only hope is that the swine flu does not infect saints.  Or the families of saints.  If so we’re good.

So, I’ve been a little stressed lately.  Imagine two shaking hands, one holding an anti-depressant pill bottle and the other clutching a bottle of scotch.  When things get either really emotional or really stressful, or in this case both, I shut down, slam the doors, lock the windows and turn on auto-pilot.  I can’t write, I can’t pick up the phone, answer e-mails, read blogs, call family to give them updates on my mom, or empty my kids’ To-Go-Home folders.  (You can imagine how the last one adds to the stress.)  I can however shop and go out to dinner without a problem.

Things have just been mounting up lately, starting with my Aunt’s broken back (yes, from the fall which the hospital ER Doctor said was fine and turned out to be broken,) to my mom’s continuing health battles, to Nathan’s ten day trip to Spain during which time I sold our house, killed our dog, bought a new house and took a new job. 

And to top it all off, Finn has managed to cover his entire trunk with chewing gum.

I’m moving in 69 days.

Yesterday UPS delivered the remains of my dog in a cardboard box and I said, “Oh, I hope it’s something fun for me!” when I opened the door.

Strange people are going to be cooking their dinner in my beloved kitchen.

Suddenly the lawn needs mowing.

I still have to keep the house clean for the millions of inspections scheduled.

I have to pack up a house stuffed full of junk and Nathan has just started his summer bar shifts which makes his work week around 75 hours long.  And it’s all his junk.

I can’t even remember what the new house looks like.

Did I mention I have to start a new job?

Finn is covered in bubble gum and I’ve already tried a bath, rubbing alcohol, putting him in the freezer and Goof-Off.

Any advice?  (Remember, I’ve got pills and alcohol covered already.)

Just the person I want designing my wardrobe: a repressed, frigid, self righteous, emasculating Republican.

Buying from her line is like a third vote for her sugar daddy:

I can think of a few people who will be lining up to get their pink cardigans and petal pushers though!

Oops.  Scratch that one!