Progress

The last week has brought progress in a lot of areas. My toe is feeling better and I no longer need the walking stick to get around. It still looks pretty yucky but it's doing a lot better.
The house is coming together too. Last night I started laying the tile in the entry and it is going to be incredible if I do say so myself.
In fact, the husband said so himself so it must be so.
It didn't start out looking like it was going to be that great. I'd had the plan - a good plan - 16 inch tiles laid out in a diamond pattern down the length of the floor, a border of 12 inch tiles all along the outside edges against the wall and in the blank spaces between the 16 inch tiles, a 12 inch tile surrounded by 2 inch tiles.
Good plan except when I got home from buying my 12 and 2 inch tiles the 16's turned out to be 18's and that extra 2 inches really messed me (and my plans) up.
I spent a couple of hours yesterday laying out dry runs and trying to figure out what in the world I was going to do to pull this one off. After dinner I made a run to Lowes to see what I could find. The tile Gods must have rushed right out and stocked the shelves because I found a perfect tumbled marble tile in just the right shade in a 3 inch size. Thank you tile Gods!
So now I had a plan again. I had such a good plan that last night I decided to get a jump on it in hopes I could have it finished by the end of the day today. Wouldn't you know, the stone tiles are too thick for me to cut with the manual cutter that I have. It's a no go. A no scratch even. So in a little while I'm off to Lowes again to buy a wet saw. There goes my cheap floor.an
Still, it's going to be awesome. I can't help but stop every time I start to walk through the entry and think "Holy crap. I'm really going to do that and it's going to be great."
It looks that good so far.
And it's not all bad. I get a new toy.
Let's see...oh yes, the bookcases are up and only a few shelves need to be added and the library will be complete. Mostly complete. I'm sure I will find other jobs in here before I'm done and I do still have to put the quarter round down now that all the built in stuff is done. Floor the most part though, rooms are being emptied of boxes and they are beginning to look like they might function like we intend them to. Thank goodness. This moving stuff is hard.
The tractor is still in the shop so grass hasn't been cut yet. We inch closer and closer to needing a bush hog every day. Soon we will have to return the truck and utility trailer that we've borrowed and we won't have a way to get the tractor back here. "Hurry up Lawn Mower Repair Man! We have jungle weeds!"
My grandma came down yesterday to spend the night with us. All day yesterday we piddled around the house unpacking boxes, hanging curtains, deciding where to put this and that. She's so much fun. At the age of 78 she can work circles around me in the house even with a quadruple by-pass and two knee-replacement surgeries behind her. What spunk! The kids are so excited to have her here for a visit and I love her company, as always. She is so fun (and funny) and full of life. She makes everything fun. Yesterday morning before I went to pick her up, our stock broker had stopped by her house to pick up something that my mom had left for him because he's going to be her broker now too. My grandma told me later on "That little boy came by to pick up the stuff your mom left for him. He's such a sweet thing. Very nice, polite. Cute too."
I think she wanted to keep him.
The "little boy" is over 30 (though just barely). When he called me on the phone yesterday afternoon he said "Your grandma is a lot of fun. It seems like she should be a lot younger."
She has the playful silliness of a child, it's true. She's my favorite person in the world.
And now I should get going. You know it's bad when a seven year-old boy stands in front of an open dresser drawer and says "Mom, you haven't been doing enough laundry. I don't have any shorts to sleep in."

I'm a hazzard to myself

I don't know what's got into me. First I break my toe on a swiffer mop, then I dislocate my shoulder, then yesterday I commit carnage on the same poor toe that was just starting to feel a lot better. I was walking around to turn the water on at the side of the house so Lacy (the muddy eared bassed hound) could have a bath. The fence was finished by lunch yesterday so when Doug got off work he ran by the old house to pick her up. (Funny story about the fence I'll write about in a minute) We couldn't bring her here without a fence to stay in because her nose will carry her for miles and miles - and take all the other dogs with it. The faucet is at the front of the house behind the azaela bushes. I went to step between the bushes and caught my toe on a low branch.
It's there to do harm, I know it is. I've never went back to turn the water on when I didn't stumble over that nubby little bare azaela appendage, but yesterday I caught it just right enough. A wave of nausea overtook me immediately. I leaned against the house once I recovered my balance. Blood poured from my foot and puddled on the ground beside my shoe. It must be the toenail, I thought.
Doug and Leirin helped me to the porch and went to get ice and a wet washcloth (for my face because I felt sick) while I bled puddles worthy of a violent crime scene on the porch tile.

Doug was able to get a good look at it around midnight last night when he was bandaging it again. It had swollen to the point where the other bandage was too tight and causing it to throb with constant pain. I couldn't get comfortable. I had turned into a whining fool ready to go track down the first person on the street corner with a pocket full of prescription pain killers that we could find. (I don't know if we have such a thing but I was ready to look) Apparently I caught the branch just right enough on the end of my toe to cut into my toe and all the way under my toenail - like you'd slice a sub roll. He is certain that it is broken (again) and that I most likely need stitches to hold the top half of my toe to the bottom half of it (which I tried arguing vehemently against this morning when he came in to check on me). It has finally stopped bleeding and I am seriously against having my body sewn. Tatooed, I might go for, but a shot there in the middle of that painful boo-boo? I think not. I don't wanna. I might have to resort to hiding somewhere in the house so he can't find me when he comes in from work to take me to the doctor.
I. DON'T. WANT. TO. GO.

I have electricians coming this morning. The vet is going to be here this afternoon. I have seven cats to round up from who-knows-where outside so they are here and ready for shots by the time he comes. I have stuff to build by crikey.
And I'm a wuss. I've had stitches once in my life. I passed out. Actually I threw up and then I passed out. Not from the stitches, but from the cut (two of my fingers cut to the bone) It's the shot to numb it that I can't deal with. With all the advances in medical technology I don't understand why we have to have shots to numb. I mean, why can't there be a spray that does it? A numbing gentle mist? Anything but a shot in the middle of the very painful boo-boo!
Why do they call them shots anyway? The word alone sounds much worse than most injuries.
I cut my toe. (don't sound so bad)

I broke my toe (ouch, must hurt but still not so bad)
You're going to need a SHOT. (See? That sounds worse than the other two combined!)

Ok, I can't think about it anymore. I might give in to an xray so I can get a boot and crutches (I don't know how to work a walking stick. I'm uncoordinated.) But if they mess with the cut part and try to give me a shot in there I might have to be sick on the doctor. I can't let my kids see me do that.
Ok, enough of that. I can't think about them poking in my toe anymore. It's too horrible.

The funny story on the fence is the gate. I - in a show of true genius - bought a gate that's too low and with gaps that are too wide. Within 42 seconds, Calliope and Luna went through the pickets in the gate and Gimli and Buddy had gone over the top. It will only be effective for short, fat dogs (of which we have two). How's that for a show of smartness?

Backwards

The new desk is almost complete. I have a few more trim pieces to add and finish once the placement of the desk has been determined. That's quickly becoming the most difficult part - the placement. I am having a hard time deciding which area is going to make the best use of the space and let me store files and everything else I need nearby without being in the way. Baseboard heat is infinitely more difficult to work around than floor registers. I am considering adding a lower shelf for storing the extra printer stuff.
Decisions, decisions.
If I put the desk in front of the window that means the legs are right in front of the baseboard heat strip. Not good, come winter. If I put it on the wall to the left (which is the only other available one) it only leaves enough wallspace for one cabinet. Period. A hutch shelf would work beautifully, but where would the other file cabinets go? I know, I know, I'm supposed to have this stuff figured out BEFORE I start building. Well, I don't work that way. I very often work backwards.
Wherever it goes it's going to be fab. The top is slick as glass and very shiny. I put a spar varnish marine finish on it. That sucker is going to be able to withstand the roof caving in and never take a scratch.
Hmmm, if I build a section of desk to work around the corner, I can line up the file cabinets on the other side and complete the highly efficient L shaped work area.
Don't mind me. I'm just planning. Pretty soon I'll have the plan worked out and I'll be what is generally considered the first step, only that will mean I'm done. That's when working backwards is cool. I'm finished at Step One where most people are just getting started.
The fence will be finished sometime today. It went along well yesterday until the rain kept coming in waves of torrential downpour. At first they just worked through it, but by the time they got ten feet away from the finish, it became too much. Tools were too wet to keep a grip on, water was dripping into eyes making it hard to see. It was decided that the last hour or so of work was best left for today when (hopefully) it wouldn't be raining. I told them to keep their calendars clear in the fall because the pasture fencing job can be theirs. They are an efficient bunch.
And they work for beer, supper, and a few bucks. Can't beat that.
At some point today I need to go back to the old house and load up more stuff. We're getting down to the wire there. It's almost empty and honestly, what's left, will probably (mostly) end up being trash. I have a few more tools and a piece or two of restaurant equipment Doug plans to store in one of the buildings. I hate those things. There is only two so-so big pieces of furniture left - a curio cabinet and a cedar wardrobe. I have no idea where either of them are going to go. Must plan that out today. See? Backwards.

First Contact

The dogs have taken to barking. At everything. It all started with the first sighting of deer in the yard. They had been so quiet up to that point, so when all hell broke loose, I ran to the window to see what was happening. At first glance, from that far away, I thought it must be a stray dog. We have managed to acquire two stray dogs in the week that we’ve been here so that seemed logical. She was standing, frozen by the gap in the trees she had just passed through. The dogs chose to keep a safe barking distance at that point. It was when she lifted her head and I realized how much taller she was than Gimli, our big, Black Lab, that my mind said “deer”.
She must have heard my thoughts telepathically because in that instant she lurched, completing a U-Turn in mid-air (they are amazingly agile!). In that same instant my dogs realized “HEY! We’re supposed to chase that funky looking thing!” and they took off after her. They gave happy chase all the way to the edge of the woods where, for some unknown reason (cougar?) my dogs all fear to go, but they continued to prance around the yard, sniffing the spot where she stood and barking like “Yeah! We showed that thing what’s what. Who’s the big dog?”
That’s an awful lot of attitude in a group of dogs where only one claims weight of more than 20 pounds, and he has a tendency to bark at what’s out front while he’s blazing a trail around to the back door where it’s safe.
So now they just bark at every sound because, who knows, it might be another one of those weird looking brown things.
The fence is due to be installed today, assuming rain doesn’t come (again) and postpone the work, and I’m hoping that in having an area of the yard that isn’t visible to them might bring the deer back again for us to enjoy. And once we get the fence in, we get to have goats – OH BOY!
Have I mentioned how much I love this place?

In other news, my shoulder is feeling a good bit better. I can't lift much yet without causing blinding pain and by the end of the day just the weight of my arm hanging there makes me ill. The sling helps take some of the weight off though and it eases after a while. Thank goodness I don't have to be the one to dig the fence post holes today. It will be quite a while before I'm ready for that, I think.

Oh no!

I have got to start remembering to ask that companies installing things in our house send the most scarecrow-like person they have. Much bigger than me and they just don't fit up under the house. That explains how I ended up under the house yesterday doing the Rambo crawl and dragging satellite cable behind me. Somehow. SOMEHOW, I managed to dislocate my shoulder. Hurts awful! Leirin helped me to get it back in place, but it is still painful. I can't move that arm well so I don't know what it means for all that I have to get done today. It's supposed to be a building day...bookcases and desk - since I didn't get to start it yesterday. I just don't know if I will be able to manage it or not.
I don't think I've mentioned it yet but Jake has the strep throat. Last night when I went to bed feeling extra extra cold, I was a little worried. I'm hoping the thick, hard to swallow feeling in my throat this morning is the result of breathing crawlspace dirt and insulation particles. Not strep. I just can't get sick.
Of course,I don't have time for ripping my arm off either but I just had to go and do it.

Hey Lolly, Lolly!

I'm sitting here sipping my coffee watching birds fly and looking up and out the window every few minutes just in case the satellite hook up man decides to come soon. "Sometime between 8am and 12 noon," the customer service woman told me. Now that's a window. I'm hoping it's closer to noon because I'm so sore I can't possibly lift my legs or raise my arms to put on real clothes yet, so I'm sitting here in my pjs (soft flannel pants and a t-shirt - which is still completely respectable if he should come but it might be better if they matched, or even if they matched more than my pink and green pants and sky blue shirt)
Earlier will certainly be more convenient for the satellite man. It's going to be hot today and underneath the back part of the house there is just enough room to squeeze an average sized body into.Insulation hangs thick from the floors. There are rock walls built up to support floors that run the full width of the house to keep floors from sagging (and it's worked incredible magic in every room except one) who knows what's under there besides insulation and water pipe? Our dog Corri does, but it scared her so bad she wouldn't turn around and find her way out on the side she snuck (sneaked?) in on and we had to cut out a vent to let her escape because she refused to leave that spot ever again. Makes me think of Arsenic and Old Lace. I really love that movie.
Installing the satellite cable is NOT going to be a fun or easy job. I pity the man. I'm still going to have it done, of course, but I'll feel sorry for him. I just hope he doesn't come scooting out of that little opening with eyes wide and screaming like a banshee. It's that spooky looking up under there.

In true Me fashion, we've picked up another stray. Actually, he picked us up. We walked out the door one day to grab another load of boxes and there he was sitting by the van - covered in ticks and looking like he hasn't had a drink in a while. It is not likely that he is a stray. He is well trained. The threat of a hit or kick will get him to do anything you tell him to. He's been so badly abused that someone smoking can send him into an on-the-spot peeing and pooping frenzy when they raise their hand to their mouth. Not up in the air. Not pointing. Scratch your head even and this dog will drop and do the Rambo crawl. It's pitiful. He's well behaved, he listens and follows instructions well and he responds to (GASP) love and affection! NO WAY! That can't possibly be working!
Stupid people that are mean to dogs (any animal) piss me off. I'd like to jerk a knot in their ass.
I'd teach'em submission.

Anyway our little wandering buddy will be staying with us if he wants. He would like to be our front porch dog. Our vet will be coming out next week to do exams and shots for all the animals. We'll just throw him in line too. What the heck, we had six dogs living on less than an acre, surely we can fit eight here. Can't we? That fact makes it seem wrong to turn him away. Doug came home from packing up a load, saw the dog and said, "How do you do that?"
(...shrug...) They find me, I don't go looking.
Doug is the BEST. He never gets angry, never turns them away. He has watched that little dog and said "He will need a name." What a great man.

Today I start trying to put together the bookcases in the library. I can't build the desk until that is done and books have been unpacked. I really need that room organized. Business paperwork never ends. Already I can't find my box of bills that needs to be paid (yes, hindsight tells me NOW that I should have done that before we moved) and I have things I've done in the last few days waiting in a drawer to be properly filed. I can see how this can easily turn catastrophic.
I found my camera yesterday so I hope to have some pictures to put up later today or in the morning. It depends on what I manage to get done.

Home

Walk a little slower daddy

“You know,” Doug said to me last night when we were sitting on the porch watching the kids ride the scooter up and down the drive while the dogs trotted along beside them, “I have no interest in knowing what’s going on anywhere else...no desire to read a paper, watch the news, nothing. All that’s happening that matters is here.”

All of our lives together I’ve been waiting for him to have some kind of similar revelation about our home and family life. He’s a workaholic. A highly dedicated one, at that. Work comes first and he don’t mind saying it. It was work, and what it made possible for our family that mattered – never mind the fact that it left nothing for us once it made it all possible. For more than ten years he got this glazed over look (“Yes I understand you want to go home to the country, you simple little girl.” - pat me on the head and look sympathetic) every time I talked about feeling drawn back home to the place I grew up, my need to be “out” away from neighbors close enough to sit on your lap when they are in their house and you’re in yours.
He didn’t get it.
Since the beginning of the year we’ve gone through one of the most stressful things we’ve ever embarked on together…house hunting and house buying. There were times both of us were ready to throw our hands up and say “It’s not worth it!” but we didn’t do that, because we both felt it was. That might have been his first inkling.
The last week has been a rush of packing, tossing in the car/truck/van/whatever and running to and fro – one house to the other, feeling stuck somewhere in between, not belonging completely at either. It’s been hard, really hard. And expensive, the cost of gas alone has been enough to blow our budget for the next 3 months.
But something has been happening to both of us. We’ve been all smiley. Colon, shift D smiley, even when unloading carelessly packed boxes in the rain.
He kept saying things like, “…so you can be happy,” but with this look on his face that made it seem like he doubted it. A place can't do that, he seemed to be thinking. Like it’s all in my head.
He’s spent his life growing up in various places so even though he knows everything from the back roads to the big city, he’s become highly adaptable…he can do his thing anywhere. Me? I grew up in the country, spent my life sitting in late afternoon shade, climbing trees to pick apples and cherries, walking through the woods carrying sticks, hearing nothing but barking dogs and the hum of tractors in the fields. The last ten years have been hard on me. I’m not highly adaptable, my spirit suffered greatly the loss of the place I belong. It’s that sense of belonging that I think he never understood. Since he moved around so much I think he had no way to comprehend the draw of the place I called home. Home is not where you hang your hat, not to me. Home is the place that sings softly to your soul. It’s the feeling, more than the actual place, and I’m sure that for some it is the city, for me it is the country, the woods, the solitude. We joked a lot while house hunting that I wanted to be invisible and anti-social when I described what I wanted in a place. Doug didn’t care what kind of place we had exactly. He wanted a garden (which I was sure I’d end up taking care of because of his work schedule), and he did want more land than we had before.
When we found this place it was so much more than we had hoped for. More land, more house (albeit in need of a lot of work), more strawberries (we didn’t know it was the old strawberry farm).
We never expected that Doug wouldn’t adjust, or that he’d have a difficult time doing so. We are closer to work than before, you know. How convenient? He could be there within 5 minutes. But I don’t think either of us expected for him to be leaving work early every day, or to find him sitting on the porch for a long time, or playing bad-mitten in the back yard come evening.
Every day I find my self marveling at the fact that I longed for a place like this so that I could be more content within myself and hoped that it would make the life we live without my husband/the kids dad most of the time, a bit easier for me and the kids. We figured if I had the peace I felt the country would bring me, and the kids had room to play, the dogs had room to run (outside, thereby being a lot less work for me), we would be more satisfied and in the end he would be more satisfied without having to deal with the unhappiness we experienced because of no room, loud neighbors, speeding cars.
Not one of us ever suspected it would give him back to us.
I am not sure how long it will last, I have no similar experience in our past to judge by, but we hope that years from now he will still be rushing home from work to sit on the porch and hold my hand while the sun sets and playing with the kids in acres of grass flickering with lightening bugs.
Home is the place that sings to your soul so it has a song of its own.

We're here

We spent our first night in the new house Sunday night. There have been problems getting the internet service transferred but nothing too major. Boxes are piled everywhere and time online is very limited.
Dogs and kids mucho happy.
Doug and I are mucho content.
Tired, but we're ok. Lots left to do, but the kitchen works so he is making us lovely yummy dinners nightly then we collapse in bed and listen to the crickets.
I love this place.
Dial up sucks

This is it!

Today we hope to get the last of the big furniture moved - washer and dryer, freezer, etc. The phone here will be turned off tomorrow. Though the phone at the new house is scheduled to be turned ON tomorrow, they rarely get these things done on time except the disconnecting part.
Besides, I don't have a place to set up the computer until I build the desk and figure out if the laptop has a modem. I haven't had dial up in years. Dial up...WAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!
I'll miss my fast as lightening DSL.
Woe is me.
Not really, I'll be ok.

As soon as I'm back online I'm going to try to put some pictures of the cat prints we are finding in the barn. There were fresh ones there last night and she has a baby. Her prints are big enough to sit my coffee cup in. WOW!

Ok gotta go and get my move on.

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I. Need. Help!

I'm loading beds into the van, well, not at the moment, but I've got two down, three to go.
Beds are hard things to do anything with when you're all by yourself. Particularly when you're just shy of 5'1" and tippy toeing with a mattress flopping around like a dying fish while you try your best not to let it touch the ground. So far so good, but I don't think I'll manage more than the other twin set on this run. I don't have it in me to carry the full size box-spring (unless I catch that neighbor guy outside again...I'll hit him upside the head with my wiles and get that one loaded too.
Nah, I'll just ask if he can give me a hand. He'll knock his own self out using my wiles. College boys have a way of doing that, you know.
Ok so that wiles part isn't the case either, but I will ask and more than likely, he will be willing to help me.
On to the resting. Load a mattress.
Take a little break...
Load a mattress...

He did it!

Jacob spent the night with my parents and this morning he is on the road. Vacation, here he comes! I am so proud of him. I know what it must have taken for him to ride out the night.
It's a milestone for him. A huge one. Several times things have happened while he's been away from me (at school) by the people who were supposed to be taking good care of him while I wasn't with him. I had assured him of that fact. And after the first time it happened, I'd promised him the world that it wouldn't possibly happen again. They'd already dealt with me one time (ok, a bunch of times) and were getting quite sick of me. Surely they wouldn't do/let anything else happen to him.
But they did.
After a while he didn't really trust me or the other people. Not even his nany.
It's a big, big step for him.
He's going to have such a great time. And I'm getting a lot done. If all goes as planned, I should have most all of the house contents moved tomorrow. Last night I packed up Jake and Em's rooms and the kids bathrooms. Later today I'll pick up a U-haul truck and I'll be going to town with the moving stuff.
That's the plan anyway. If it goes well enough I might skip the truck considering I can get my FILs pick-up tomorrow and gas is very expensive now. And they charge by the mile on top of that, so I'm going to see what I can manage by this evening and if I need the truck I'll go get it. All I want is for the kids to come home ready to live in our new house. I think I might can manage that with the van and a truck. I'm going to try to draft my brother tomorrow too. Between him and the guys from work, we should get a lot of the heavy stuff done.
That will help.
I should finish up laundry within the next hour and since there's nobody here wearing clothes (except me and Doug) to dirty up a bunch, I might actually stay caught up with it over the weekend - avoid having more to do alltogether.
And so I'm off to finish my coffee and pack more boxes before I run this load to the house. I can do it!

Alone

The youngest of my brood, the never-spent-the-night-away-from-me boy of mine just left (and the girls but they are old hands at traveling with nany and poppie). I am completely alone for the first time in almost nine years.
I know I am supposed to load this pile of boxes into the van, drop it off and meet the husband for dinner at the restaurant, so why have I walked completely through the house three times without picking up a single thing?
Who am I again?
What was I doing?
What do I do now?
I'm lost...

My squirrel name

is Deputy Dangleberry. That's not like a dingleberry is it? That wouldn't be good.

Vacation

So I had a little drink last night and got a pretty good night's sleep. It's great, this stuff. We make our own Amaretto from an excellent recipe that ranks right up there with Disarono (sp?) and I can have all I want for the price of cheap vodka. Actually, it's expensive vodka, but way cheap when compared to the price of good amaretto. So economical, in fact, I'm doing it again tonight.
Party's over here!
Actually, there is no party. Just a tipsy old me sitting here at the computer in the hubby's underwear (hey I can't help it they don't make girls boy leg undies as comfortable as the actual boys kinds. If only they came in microfiber...) and a t-shirt, smoking like I've just made up my mind to quit.
My van is packed and ready for another round of the Crysty Road Show tomorrow morning. I hope to have another load or two packed up and ready to be loaded.
Tomorrow my kids leave to go on a weekend vacation with my parents. All of my kids. Now I should mention that Jacob has NEVER spent the night away from home. Oh sure, he's gone to spend the night with Nany lots of times, but when it gets dark and bedtime looms in the near future he's ready to come home. His line was always "But Nany, I've already spend the night a long time."
Can't wait to see how this turns out. Oh the possibilities.
Jake really wants to go on vacation though. I really want Jake to go on vacation. Bless his heart, he misses so much fun stuff. My mom is no help for his anxiety when her first order of business is to begin immediately harping on the fact that he is NOT going to come home after dark, she is NOT going to listen to him whining about going home, etc, etc... This trip should be interesting.
He has a plan. He's taking a picture of me for when he misses me. Pop will have his cell phone and he can call my cell phone all he wants, he has a notebook to write letters to me and Leirin will be reading to him nightly from the second Little House book (he loves those).
Vacation will begin with spending the night at Nany's house tomorrow night in preparation for leaving early EARLY Friday morning. If that don't go well, they'll be swinging by here to drop him off at home and I'm sure neither of us will ever hear the end of it.
I've got my fingers crossed. Some things are just hard to get over. IF he does go, I have two guys from work at my disposal and I should get a lot of moving done.
Wish me and Jake luck :)

The bar is open

It's not at the new house but today nothing has gone right for me (in the putting trim in department) and it was a rough evening. We have moved some stuff but not enough.
Thankfully the amaretto is potent. And now I'm going to bed.

Morning

The coffee is done, the dogs have been fed. Gimli (the poor, neglected big dog) keeps coming over to lick me on the elbow trying to gain my attention. He's perfectly happy with the "Ewwwww, Stop!" that I keep giving him. As soon as I wake up I'm going to have to love that dog a little bit. I'm so tired I just don't have it in me to rub his head. I did give him a little kiss earlier (of course, he gave me a really big slobbery one). I k now I say it every day but I am SO TIRED. The saw dust is messing with my sinuses and having a headache on top of exhaustion is not fun. I wake up in need of at least hours (or a day) more sleep. This is starting to get pretty old now - But we're moving today! Most of the kids things are ready to be taken over It will be good to at least have that done.
Yesterday I broke two nails - the finger kind. Here I thought I was going to make it through with my polished beauties in tact and the molding installation just kicked my butt and before I knew it my two longest nails were gone. Boo hoo. I bet the rest don't last through the end of the move.
Really I have nothing to blog about. I'm brain dead, injured - only part of that having to do with the house work - the broken toe is all the fault of a swiffer mop, and my hair hasn't looked good in weeks. I am pretty darn sure I'm getting muscles but really, all they ever do is hurt. I think one of the first things I'll set up in the kitchen is the bar. I'm gonna be needing that.