Alright already! The complaint department is CLOSED. I knooooowwww it's been 10 days since my last post.
It's just that my little life has left me somewhat uninspired lately. Not because it's falling apart (it's not)...just that it's so average. So very average.
There are no imminent house issues. We have had moments of panic and frustration, but generally speaking things are all moving in the right direction. We hope to close on March 14th, but if I've learned anything through this process it's that things can change quickly. I try not to think too much about the close because I don't think I'm emotionally fit enough to deal with it all.
Closing the door on this little house for the last time will surely rip the beating heart right out of my chest. I will be so sad. And because I have so many friends on this street, I know I'll be in the neighborhood regularly, and I'll have to witness each unforgivable act done to my house.
What if the new owners don't put up window boxes? Or weed? What if they yank my awesome hydrangeas out of the ground?
Maybe I should dig them up now and bring them with me.
Letting go will be tough.
And the new house. So many unanswered questions. So many what ifs. So much work just getting into the damn thing. I was thinking that maybe y'all could start a fundraiser to hire professional movers for us. And painters to cover the sea foam green in the master bedroom. Maybe a bake sale? Or car wash?
Just a thought.
Holy crap...speaking of the master bedroom, I had an unpleasant revelation about the whole bedroom/master bath set up. It blows. The master bath is chopped in half. The loo and the shower are in one small room and the sink is in a separate space (right next to toilet/shower). It's set up kind of like a hotel room, with the sink area as part of the bedroom.
Which means that every single morning, at precisely 6:15am, I am going to be awoken to the sound of my darling husband hocking a giant, nasty lugey into the sink right after he brushes his teeth.
Every. Single. Morning.
This is by far his most repulsive habit (sadly, there are others). It is just disgusting. But, for the better part of the last 14 years I've been spared the snort-gggggaaa-spit routine by either the depth of my sleepiness or the location of the bathroom.
All bets are off in the new house. The sink will be only feet away from my slumbering head.
And frankly, this might be a marriage breaker for me. I get annoyed when he wakes me up for a good reason ("I think Maggie's running a fever"). I don't do well being rudely jostled into my morning. In a perfect world, I would slowly and gently regain consciousness when I'm actually DONE sleeping. Alarm clocks would be banished and children would synchronise their waking hours with mine.
Waking up to him spitting wads of snot into the sink will torture and eventually kill me.
Rest assured, my computer friends. We will have a new bathroom wall before the end of March. Green walls be damned, sputum issues will have to take priority.
So, there you have it. All my averageness. But, since an official complaint has been lodged, I promise to share my boring life on a much more regular basis. You can expect updates on the darlings, on my newly changed job (oy, the stress) and other evuh so interested snippets of life in my shoes.
There. Am I forgiven?