Monday, October 09, 2006

I Can't Even Pretend To Have A Title

David went out of town Thursday.

It is now Monday night.


I should mention that The Child has been delightful. He has been sweet and affectionate and cooperative, and aside from his occasional tendency to want to bounce some form of action figure off of my face or my behind, we've done really well considering we have been together non-stop and by that I mean All The Time including sleeping because I am all about making up as few beds as possible right now.

I did have a bit of a stressed out Mama moment yesterday when Alex and I were riding around during our open house because he was talking all the time with nary a moment of silence because why, why would anyone want silence when there's so much talking to be done about the trees and the Arby's and the "Sunday Morning Songs" and how red means stop and yellow means slow down and green means go but what does orange mean, Mama? And what does white mean? And can we go left now? What about straight? Where's that way go? Does that way go to Jason's?

But all things considered, we've weathered our Time Without Daddy pretty well.

But this house stuff? The open house yesterday and now a caravan of agents who are coming tomorrow?

Wearing. me. out.

I know that it's just all part of selling a house. I get that. And I'm beyond grateful to even have the possibility of moving to a place that'll be more convenient for our family.

But I'm just a little tired. Just a wee bit tired.

Also, I think that if my rugs and carpet could talk, they would say something along the lines of, "PLEASE, OH PLEASE - FOR THE LOVE OF PETE, QUIT VACUUMING!"

So I'm about to go outside and sweep the porch and the deck one more time so that the neighborhood children can look out of their bedroom windows and say, "Mama! Daddy! The crazy lady is moving plants in the dark again!" Then I'm going to sprawl out on the couch, cover up with a comfy blanket, and watch "The Bachelor."

Oh! And I haven't even told y'all about how I took the TV out of the kitchen so the countertops would be totally uncluttered, and now every single time I walk in there all I can think is that THE SILENCE, IT IS DEAFENING because why, why is there no Food Network playing in the kitchen, why?

Which makes me fairly certain that the reason why Alex talks all the time is because I have in fact encouraged it. That I am some sort of Anti-Silence Stealth Bomb that stops quiet dead in its tracks.


My OCD and I will be back to visit you tomorrow!

I can't imagine how lucky you must feel.



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