Random Monday

In CategoryAdventure, Random Monday

• We have to be out of our house in six days. SIX. I am feeling rather panicky. We bought a tiny trailer to pull behind the car. Then we looked at the trailer and we looked at the pile of stuff we wanted to take. Then we went through everything again and pared down even further.

Six days! Gah!

• When Jim and I were going through our closets, he asked me what I was going to do with all my out of season clothing.

Out of season clothing! I was all “have you MET me? I have been wearing cut-off cargo pants and birkenstocks forever and you want to know what I’m doing with my seasonal clothing?” Is there a fur coat all up in here I should be concerned about?

Girl, please.

• Also when going through my clothes, I noticed that approximately eighty percent of my wardrobe is pajamas. I have a broad selection of sweatshirts, pajama pants, tank tops, and long underwear. I also have nineteen pairs of cargo pants. I have no shirts and two pairs of shoes. Somehow, something has gone terribly awry in this department. I have six bras that strangle me and six bras that leave me flapping in the breeze. I alternate between the two kinds, so I get variety in what’s annoying me. Probably I should work on that a little, but I’d rather strick a shrimp fork in my ear than go clothes shopping.

• Six days! Gah!


Help. Me.

In CategoryAdventure


In CategoryAdventure

Because we are weirdos who are selling all our stuff and planning to travel, we will have no street address. No problem, right? Just get a P.O. Box, fill out some change-of-address forms, and bada bing!

Sadly, no.

I tried to change a bunch of my addresses online – the bank, the credit cards, etc.

They don’t like it. I got big red messages telling me my mail can’t go to a P.O. box.

Why not? The postal service handles all the mail, I just want them to hold onto it. Seems like a simple request, right?

I called the bank, thinking maybe they could override it from their end.


Because you know why?

It’s part of The Patriot Act.

I guess somewhere, sometime, some stupid terrorist got plot-related mail in a PO Box. To counteract that, good ol’ Uncle Sam has decided that 350 million Americans can’t use the freaking post office.

I swear. Stupid terrorists. They really piss me off.



We did it

In CategoryAdventure

We sold the house!

Or gave it away, as the case may be. Remember back when you bought a house and you thought your money would be safe there because real estate always increases in value?

I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works anymore.

But! We are excited to get this show on the road. Unfortunately, we have already been slightly derailed from our original plan by the fact that Yellowstone is apparently closed from October until the middle of December. Thanksgiving with Old Faithful is not gonna happen.

Now you can all brace yourselves for weeks of narcissistic navel-gazing while I sort through my sweatpants and fret about which shoes to pack.

Actually, you know what? Get ready for whining on a variety of topics. I can’t see limiting myself.

First of all, Jim FORGOT he had to go to TEXAS last week and didn’t remember until FRIDAY.

Who does that? Is this what it’s going to be like married to a 43 year old now? I mean, come ON.

I, naturally, took the announcement in stride – if by “in stride” I mean I made bitchy comments the rest of the weekend.

And I do.

On MONDAY MORNING, literally FIFTEEN MINUTES before we were headed to the airport, the realtor called and said that someone who had seen the house online from CANADA, of all places, had made an offer on the house contingent upon seeing it in real life THAT AFTERNOON.

Because of course we can’t be normal about anything.

Who buys a house they’ve never even seen? I was not optimistic.

We raced to the airport and dropped Jim off, then tore home amid sobs of “I miss my DADDDDDDDYYYYY” and I cleaned like a mad person for the next 4 hours. I even cleaned out that drawer under the oven.

It was disgusting.

I thought about taking a picture, but figured that my filthy oven on the heels of revealing my lower-leg ISSUES would be too much.

While the buyers were looking around, I took the kids out to a fancy dinner of fast-food pasta, where I dumped not one, but TWO plastic cups of water on myself.

Two cups of water! All over my shirt! In front of everyone!

(side eye to you Fazolli’s, with your cheap-ass complimentary cups that disintegrate all over innocent people)

I’ll bet you all wish you could go to a fine-dining establishment with me.

By 9:30pm I was on the phone with the realtor working out the sale while Jim texted me the details of his “Important Work Dinner at Fancy Dallas Steakhouse.”

So. Annoying.

We made it through the inspection, corrected all the eye-rollingly stupid things they wanted us to fix, and spent the weekend cleaning out the garage and starting to pack.

I laid awake all night having mini-panic attacks, making mental To Do lists, and wondering whose dumbass idea this was.

This is it. We’re really doing it.

Commence Freak Out.