Send the healing vibes this way...

It's official. We're all sick. But this doesn't mean that we can sit down and actually take the time to be sick. Well, it does mean that Billy can sleep, because, well, he's a wimp when he's sick. =) I, instead, have to stay up and make sure all is right in the house.

On another note, we had the real estate agent and her client out to see the old house today. There were still a bunch of boxes upstairs, but things were, overall, pretty clean. They kept thanking us over and over because the first two houses they went to were filthy. The real estate lady even came in after the client and her daughter had left to comment that she saw a "twinkle in her eye." She did follow that up with a comment on how she thinks her client needs to see a few more houses, probably, before making a decision one way or another. I agree with that--no problem there. It was otherwise very positive, though.

I must say that I will not leave it up to Billy to sell the house. I was busy doing something when they first came to the door, and I met up with them in time to hear him berating the house. The agent complimented something, and he like shot it down.... I wish I could remember what they were talking about... I think the upstairs bathroom or something. I proceeded to push him out of the way and show them all the interesting cubbies and what updates we had made. Phew! Crisis averted!

Anyway, still keep the prayers coming. For now, I'm going to go lay down or something.

Please pray for us

We've got a lady coming out tomorrow, as I mentioned earlier, to look at our house. She is looking specifically for bungalows, and liked how ours looked. Isn't that about the craziest thing you've ever heard????? Who specifically searches out bungalows? It's not like they're architectural genius or anything.... unless you like stairs and lots of strange cubbyholes.

Anyway, lots of stuff to do between now and then, so I'll be on my way. I'd appreciate it if you'd keep us in your prayers, as we (obviously) want the house to sell as quickly as possible.

Love this picture! 

Do these people look familiar? And look at Logan vs. Hunter! 

Isn't he a cute bodderbooey?! 

Another rant about Billy's work.

Before I go any further, let me say that I am happy Billy has a job. We usually have money in the bank (right now is not one of those times, but that is due to all the nasty reimbursement stuff. Don't get me started!). I remember the years when there was far less money, and even those checks when Billy wouldn't get paid, but rather would owe for medical insurance. In comparison, we are in paradise. Well, sort of.

Today is parent/teacher conferences at Logan's school. I have decided that I am feeling too ill to go, but even more so a reason to skip is because Hunter has the fluorescent green runny nose, two teeth about ready to pop, and the B.A. to go along with. Billy has decided to go alone, which is fine with me, even though I really did want to hear what his new teacher thought as far as motivating Logan, what areas he needs improvement, etc. But at least Billy can go. The problem lies here: Billy is driving to Toledo after conferences because his co-worker took the wrong parts to someone there (in Columbus). He is telling me that he won't get home until like 1 a.m. This means many, many things.

1) I have to make sure everyone is fed (including dogs and horses. Kitties can eat whenever they want).
2) I have to check mom's mail, water the plants, etc. with the kids in tow.
3) Any hopes of getting more work done at the old house are kaput.
4) I won't get to sleep again until after 10 p.m.

I am whining, but it's because I'm literally sick and tired. I am upset because Billy was supposed to have the day off yesterday (they get the Marine Corps. birthday off every year, a company holiday) but he forgot and worked all day anyway. Grrr. I am upset because we cannot plan a trip or any sort of excursion that would take us more than a couple hours away from the Metro area because Billy is on call. And he has been on call for almost an entire year because there's no one else to be on call FOR him. I am upset because I cannot possibly make plans for anything in advance because those plans are subject to change within moments if he's paged. And I am upset because I have been through some pretty low times, emotionally, over the last eight months, and he is so busy working that he has no concept of the magnitude of it all. I struggled with depression my junior and senior years in high school, and although I never saw a doctor for it, it was very similar to what I feel now and have been feeling since having Hunter. It is worrisome to me that my husband cares for me, but doesn't realize how bad I feel sometimes. He is so busy working that he doesn't realize that I have to stare at the bigger picture.... I am the one who suffers when he ignores his work finances because I have to deal with the aftermath. It does little to ease the incapacitating pressure I already feel.

Being in the new house has helped tremendously, although the stress of moving is another thing altogether. I just wish that I could call someone at Billy's work and gripe without the fear of him losing his job. Sigh. And I'm to the point where I'm so upset about everything else that I can't even remember why I was supposed to be yelling at my builder. And I'm sick of always having some drama in my life. Maybe I just feel like this because my mental state just amplifies everything, or maybe I'm one of those people who aren't truly complete until drama finds them.... I dunno. I'm just tired of it.

I should know better than to blog when I'm running on less than four hours of sleep for the day.

I'm so tired I'm not tired anymore!

I stayed up all night (yes, all night... From 11:30 p.m. to 7:00 a.m) cleaning the old house for a walk-through appointment we've got on Saturday. I'd like to say I got a lot done, but I don't really think I did. I think my efforts are misdirected or something. I'm focused on cleaning dirt off the edges of the doors and similar small, weird things.

One thing this experience has taught me: Those Mr. Clean Magic Erasers are the best cleaning invention EVER. Okay, so maybe not EVER, but pretty darn close. The only thing is that I should've been wearing cleaning gloves. I went through three or four of those suckers, and now my hand hurts like a mofo.

I'd like to say I came home and slept, but really I got like 20 minutes of sleep before my boss called, demanding my work (my, isn't she picky!) that I had mistakenly saved as a draft instead of sending last night. By that point, I decided I was up, might as well shower before the baby woke up.

Now my eyes are stinging, so I guess it's time to actually take a nap!

The new family members have arrived!

Yes, we now have our two kittens... who are now seven months old and not so much kittens anymore, but even so... I wasn't sure it was ever going to happen, but I did manage to get a phone call from the Animal Rescue lady who said she'd meet me at Pet Supplies Plus at 7 p.m. Her call was showing up as "Restricted," (just like The Chad's was, but it wasn't The Chad. It is curious as to why I'm getting all these Restricted calls all of the sudden, when it's never happened before.

This cat stuff is all horrible timing for me--not just the hour, but I guess you could say the month. The money supply is really low, thanks to Billy's work account debacle and getting things set in the new house. On the other hand, the cats were Logan's birthday present, and he has been waiting fairly patiently since August for one of the cats in particular. This is where I bite the bullet and start typing some more to offset bills.

But, anyway, the cats are Wally and Bandy ("this one time, at band camp..."). Both males (I know, I know... they were neutered very early, though, so here's praying), one mostly black with some white, and one mostly white with some black. They were littermates, and then got separated. When we said we'd adopt them both, they got to live together again. They are now hiding behind my computer desk. Izzy and Abby only suspect they are here. I am not looking forward to that meeting.

If I can get some pictures taken, I'll try to post some within the next few days. They're pretty cute.

I feel ill.

Why do I feel this way when there is so much to do??

And I think The Chad called back today, as I got another "Restricted" call on my cell phone. Dude, get a clue. This girl liked you enough to give you some random other person's cell phone number. I didn't answer this time, as I don't feel like defending my marriage to some complete stranger. Heh.

And, for the record, we officially have closet rods. Yahoo! Who know they'd make me THAT excited?!

Don't tell my husband!

I forgot to add this to my other post!

I was sitting here working on that post when I hear my cell phone ringing downstairs. I run down the stairs, jump the gate, and make it to my phone just as it stops ringing. My phone shows the number is "Restricted." What does that mean? I've never seen a number show up like that on my cell phone. Anyways... They leave me a page, telling me to PLEASE CALL some number. I call back, and it goes to a voicemail where there is just an automated message. I leave a brief message, not sure of who it is, and not suspicious enough to not return the call just in case it's a family member who really needs me.

A minute or two later, I get a call from a guy obviously trying to sound super-sexy, ala 1-900-IMA-STUD (is that a number? I made it up. So if it's not, it SHOULD BE.) I answer, and he says "Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!" really deep and velvety, like he's trying his darnedest to sound like that Pillow Talk dude. I say hi back, with a question in my voice. "Who's this?" I ask. He seems insulted I don't know, and actually says he can't believe I don't remember him. I assure him I don't, and he finally admits his name is "Chad." THE CHAD??!! (I could go on with "The Chad" jokes for a while, but I'll let that go for now). When I still sound confused, he says he's the blonde from the bar.

That helps me a lot.

I assure him I don't know who he is, I'm married, and can't recall the last time I've been in a bar. But, certainly, it wasn't recent enough to remember giving anyone my cell phone number. He says he's embarrassed, and I go to hang up. He's decided he'd like to continue the conversation. "So you're not brunette?" What? Why? He tells me I sound cute. I say, I'm married, I'm going to go now. He keeps talking. He says something about me not wanting my husband to think I'm cheating. Exactly. Click.

To date, that was the weirdest wrong number I've had. Now I'm all creeped out. The Chad was not good. =P

My first official "party"

I knew it was coming. Eventually, anyways. After all the times we (not just my family, but those of our other siblings, too) dropped in John and Melinda's for impromptu parties, I knew it was coming. And I knew paybacks would be you know what.

Really, it wasn't that bad, but I was so totally unprepared I cannot even express it in words. I had been working for two days to wash and put away my dishes. I had this lovely pyramid of empty boxes, bubble wrap, and packing peanuts blocking my guest bath and pantry, and making it pretty darn hard to get in through the garage. Odds and ends of trim pieces, nails, screwdrivers, appliance manuals, etc. were cohabitating on pretty much the whole of my counters. I couldn't locate kid-friendly plates to save my life (okay, so not technically a travesty, but pretty bad considering my backlog of Tupperware from my months as a consultant). My fridge.... Bare, except for the remains of our pizza/breadsticks/salad meal Friday night with the Maclachlan's.

Did I know we were grilling out? Yep. Was I aware it was at my house? Not a clue. The odds were not in our favor, seeing how our grill is sitting quietly among the leaves and lonesome doggie toys 20 minutes from here. John is ever-resourceful and brought the grill to us. He's always looking for a use for the four-wheeler. Hahaha.

All in all, it was fine... and fun... It just really was a flurry of activity, considering we've only been here since Friday. But I was happy to do it, and I'm sure it will happen again soon. We learned some very valuable lessons, though. For instance: Don't let Brian cook (just kidding!). Even more important, don't let Billy buy the meat (I'm serious on this one!). And if you ever need to sand off the bottom of your feet, just run sock-less around my basement for a while. I found it pretty funny that all the kids wore holes in their socks.... and even funnier to see Lucas with a couple layers of cement dust on his face. =)

I vow to be better-prepared next time.

***

I'm confused. I got e-mail confirmation today from allofmp3 saying my files had been encoded or whatever. I thought that had already been done? Can someone shed some light on this for me? Maybe I am just slow in understanding this process.