Monday, November 24, 2014

The good stuff is somewhere between hell and insanity.

I have this large rectangular picture frame that holds six 4x6 pictures in a line.  I keep it upright on the floor because I'm too lazy to find wall space for it.  At the moment, all the pictures feature D because we didn't have C when I filled it up.  For some reason, C thinks this thing is the greatest toy on Earth.  I came into the office for two minutes to print an email, and during that time, I heard the dreaded crash 'n cry.  You know.  When there's a crash from another room, followed by a pause, then pained shrieking.  Yeah.  That just happened.  Again.  I go in there to find C underneath the picture frame, very, very upset.  I'm not surprised.  You see, he's done this maybe eight times now.  The first time broke the glass, so every other time he just whacks himself in the head with particle board backing.  Apparently, neither of us learns, because I keep putting it on the ground where he can reach it, and he keeps crawling over to it and knocking it over.  Isn't that the definition of insanity or something?  And every time I walk over to him, he looks so surprised that there's a large picture frame on his head.

I really hate showings.  Every day that we have a showing, I turn into a raging harpy.  I feel like it's acceptable in that situation though because I'm pretty sure having a showing at a house with two small, mobile children is one of the levels of hell.  It's impossible to keep any one room clean, let alone the entire house, and show-ready condition?  Nope.  Not happening.  Since Eli and I would like to sell the house before we're both old and grey, we've had to take drastic measures.  We lock them in the living room while I clean the entire rest of the house, then we put them in the car while I clean the living room.  We have to leave anyway, and they're fine out there with Eli.  Just to be clear, when I say "we" I really mean me.  Eli usually gets home right before the showing, which thankfully is just in time for the "put them in the car" portion of the event.  I've learned that I hate the idea of strangers coming through our house and judging it.  Because that's what's happening at the heart of it.  Every person who doesn't want to buy is another way our house is found lacking.  They didn't want it, after all, there must be reasons.  I have to keep telling myself it's not a reflection of me personally, but it doesn't feel true yet.  Combine the stress of trying to keep stuff clean with the possibility of yet another impending rejection and my poor little brain throws me into raging harpy mode.  Either clean or get out of my way.

Big news today, people.  Oh yeah, I'm burying it way down here so you have to read the rest of my ramblings.  Eli is quitting his job.  Yes.  You read that right.  Eli is putting in his resignation today and only plans to work at his company through the end of the year.  Mostly because I want to go to the holiday party.  He's a giver.

Big changes coming our way.  In the spirit of keeping some things sacred, I have no intention of shoveling any of the snow currently falling.  You might remember last year about this time I was cursing Eli's absence and swearing that I'll never shovel again.  I'm happy to report that I've kept that vow.  Even though we're leaving before dawn tomorrow, I refuse to help clear any snow.  Is it petty of me to hope it snows six inches tonight so that Eli has to get up at 4am and shovel the driveway?  Probably, but maybe it will convince him to leave the frozen tundra just a little bit sooner.  Or we'll be hiring a plowing service.  Maybe both?

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