Bring on the Green Beer

I just now realized - right this very second, because I am that on top of things - that there are only eighteen days left until Moving Day.

Eighteen.

Days.

Which, the last time I checked, was less than three weeks, which is less than a month, which would still be no where near enough time to get even half of this stuff done. Not enough time to paint our ginormous foyer, three bedrooms & the entire third floor of the new place. Not enough time to find, purchase & install window coverings for all nineteen windows in the house, including two that we just discovered are leaking. Not enough time to fix all of the things the previous owners screwed up / didn't disclose. Not enough time to find, interview for & obtain my Dream Job (or even to figure out what that may be). Not enough time to track down new people who may be willing to help us move now that most of the original recruits are unavailable. Certainly not enough time to pack up the rest of my house (including the attic, where I have been throwing random crap for the past 5.5 years, and apparently said crap has in some way multiplied or something because oh my hell, where did all of this stuff come from?).

On the positive side, in nineteen days, this will all be behind us.

Anyone want to meet me on the 18th for a belated St. Patrick's Day celebration???

FINALLY!

Thank God, St. Joseph & all of y'all that have been thinking happy thoughts for us: our house is officially SOLD! And we closed on our new place too. The relief is overwhelming. Or it was for about 15 minutes.

Then I started thinking about painting. And repairs. And packing up over 1,800 sq. ft. of crap. And moving 1,800 sq. ft. of crap 80 miles away. In what is likely to be the worst blizzard in a century, if history teaches us anything. And then UNpacking 1,800 sq. ft. of crap. (Once we dig out from the blizzard.) And finding people to help us move. (Anyone? We are not picky. We are also not above recruiting burly men off the street.) And finding a new job. And dealing with my old job for the next month. And moving away from my family. And, and, and . . . you have no idea how much fun it is, living inside my head. Even at the happiest of times, I can always find something to obsess about.

But! We love our new place. Have I mentioned that we have four bathrooms? Four! There are two I haven't even peed in yet! (TMI?) I used to live just a few miles away & I can't wait to revisit all of my old haunts, not to mention discover new ones. Oh, and I know I am the biggest dork in the whole entire world for admitting this, but you guys? The world's most glorious grocery store is just down the road. No, seriously. We stopped in on Saturday just to pick up some milk & stuff, and I totally could have wandered around all night. Helpful staff! Ginormous bakery! A bewildering selection of luscious cheese! And the pièce de résistance - a gourmet candy boutique, including a vast assortment of artisan chocolate. So if it all gets to be too much, you know where to find me.

Where Did I Pack the Wine?

Remember how I discussed my boss? About how he's a sexual harassment case waiting to happen? And how my work environment is toxic? And how I can't wait to quit? Well, I didn't think it was possible, but it has gotten markedly worse during the past week. I don't want to delve into the details, because that would require that I relive the whole mind-numbing, soul-crushing mess. I also don't want to talk about how my house isn't officially sold yet, or about the obscene amount of money we spent on paint this week, or about why I packed all of the liquor and books and anything else of any vague importance already, and yet my bathing suits, formalwear & evening bags are all readily accessible. (Perhaps I am hoping to be surprised with a cruise?) And finally, I am not going to discuss the mountains of snow that fell on us within the past few days, or the negative-twenty-degrees-without-the-wind-chill temperatures, which appeared just in time for us to attempt to move. But I will share the worst part of the past week: I haven't had the time to read any blogs.

I KNOW! Horrible, right? But at least that explains why I am four days behind on One-Word Sarcomical Sunday #4. (One word answers only!)

• Feeling: Shredded
• Thinking About: Moving
• Your Family History: Complicated
• The Last Person You Had "Words" With: Boss
• Want To Fly Away To: Beach
• Hate the Sight Of: Office
• The Sport Whose Players Turn You On: Hockey
• Favorite Color Ink: Black
• American Idol Judge Who Irritates You Most: Randy
• Place You Thought Monsters Hid When You Were Little: Basement
• Favorite Spice or Herb: Basil
• What You Like for Breakfast: Bacon
• Your Living Room Couch: Beckoning
• Most Recent Purchase: Paint
• Hours You Typically Sleep On Weeknights: Sevenish
• Something You Dislike: Ignorance
• A Favorite Color: Green
• Your Snack When Willpower Is Nonexistent: Doughnuts
• Your Bedsheets: Striped
• The Part of Your Face You Scrunch Most Often: Nose
• The Last Thing You Thought Was Funny: Cheesoning
• What You're Going To Do Now: Sleep

Good night!

Stupid Mercury

Since I last posted, lots of things have happened, some which pertained to the sale & purchase of various homes, none of which I'm inclined to write about (you should thank me), but all of which have made me think that Teacher Lady knew what she was talking about. A quote she sent me from an astrology website reads:

Mercury retrograde gives rise to personal misunderstandings; flawed, disrupted, or delayed communications, negotiations and trade; glitches and breakdowns with phones, computers, cars, buses, and trains. And all of these problems usually arise because some crucial piece of information, or component, has gone astray or awry.

Yes! YES! Finally! An explanation! Well, okay, maybe that doesn't explain everything that's been going on around here lately. But I would prefer to think that Mercury is the issue rather than question whether God is punishing me for something heinous I did in a past life. Or maybe this is my punishment for stealing Brynna's Strawberry Shortcake doll in the first grade. But I returned it! And apologized!

Anywho, the short version of This Weekend in Real Estate is: lots of things happened and yet very little progress was made. But! There appears to be light at the end of the tunnel! Again! This is the longest tunnel in the world. (Actually, the longest tunnel is Laerdal Tunnel in Norway, and yes, I did have to look it up. It's a sickness, I can't help it. I am a slave to trivial knowledge.)

While we're (vaguely) on the subject, I have been group-tagged by Amalah & Miss Zoot for the Most Popular Meme of the Year. So here it is, Six Weird Things About Me:

• I have to match. Have to. My underwear has to match, both each other & what I'm wearing, even if I'm just wearing pajamas. And my socks & / or slippers have to match my pjs too. Always.
• I once translated a New Kids on the Block song into French. And then performed it, complete with choreographed dance moves, in front of 25 people. I should add that this was an assignment for my high school French class, it's not like this is my idea of a good time. Although I seem to recall that I was the one who picked the song. Give me a break, it was the 80s. I liked Milli Vanilli too. At least I never had a mullet.
• When I was young, my eyes were blue & my hair was stick-straight. When I hit puberty, my eyes changed to green & my hair became curly.
• I lived on a farm for a few years, starting when I was eight. My cousin Jason and I collected the eggs from the chickens, played in the horse barn & caught frogs for fun. This is only weird if you consider the fact that I am not now, nor have I ever been, a Fan of Nature (remember, this is where the dirt and bugs live). I'm not sure what possessed me during those two years. Come to think of it, our house was widely rumored to be haunted . . .
• When I was 27, I developed a severe lactose allergy. The slightest bit of lactose (including the tiny amount found in medication) resulted in vomiting and, well, extreme gastrointestinal distress. Two years later, after I separated from my ex-husband, my symptoms suddenly became much less severe, and they have now all but disappeared.
• Raw poultry makes me gag. Years ago, I attempted to make a turkey. This required the use of rubber gloves, several kitchen towels and innumerable utensils. Never again.

Your turn!

Is It Over Yet?

Thank you to all of the nice people (well, all two of you that I don't know IRL) who have inquired about my health & well-being. I am still alive & kicking (ask anyone who has had the misfortune to get in my way recently), but it's been one hell of a month.

Only one week into it & February is kicking. my. ass.

My office computer's hard drive decided that this was a good week to spontaneously combust (figuratively speaking), taking every little bit of information it contained along for the ride. I did have a back-up CD, although I hadn't actually updated it since just before Christmas. (Yes, I know, bad Shawn. Believe me, I've learned my lesson.) Turns out, it doesn't matter because that disk is MIA. Of course it is. Why was I even surprised? What didn't surprise me was the complete and utter lack of any kind of customer service from Dell. (Except for the charming & sympathetic William. Chris, if I ever leave you, I will be with William in the Philippines. He assures me the beaches are quite something.) I spoke to six people in four days, which is how long it took to receive a new hard drive that was "overnighted" on Monday. In the meantime, my boss decided that he would rather pay me sit at my desk and do, quite literally, nothing, rather than let me go home and work from there. And if you thought I was neurotic before, when I had things like deadlines and responsibilities to distract me? You have no idea how neurotic I can truly be when I have unlimited time to do nothing but think.

And I had plenty to think about, real estate-wise. I cannot even begin to address all of the issues that have come up with the sale of our house within the past week. But I would like to mention that every single one of them has been a result of some incompetent asshat not doing his or her job. I am so frustrated and sick of people right now, I haven't even been reading blogs. I KNOW! Can't get much worse than that, right? At one point earlier this week, I told Chris that I was considering a career change. To Unabomber. Not because of the whole letter bomb thing (although a few appraisers / Realtors / loan officers should be verrrrry careful right now. Kidding! I'm kidding! Please don't send the FBI to my house. Unless they would like to help us move, in which case we'll take any help we can get.), but because of the whole isolation-from-society-thing. Of course then I remembered that he lived in some little shack in the woods, and you know how I feel about Nature, which is where the dirt and bugs live. And besides, that would probably mean that I'd have to live more than 15 minutes from a Target, and, well, that's just completely unacceptable.

But don't worry, real estate didn't consume my every waking thought. There was my insurance company, whose claims line is apparently staffed by automatons that are only able to say, "You can find that information on the website," - which would be fine if I hadn't already looked on the website, which was woefully bereft of any kind of helpful information. Then there was my dentist, who would not release my x-rays and records on the grounds that "then the office won't have a copy", completely disregarding that new-fangled concept of photocopying. And let's not forget the utility company that attempted to hold me responsible for a delinquency from 12 years ago. In case you're wondering? The utility company supervisor could not possibly care less if you were living at the address at the time, or even in the same state, or if someone stole your identity, or if you have proof of all of the above, or even if Holy Mother of God, it was 12 years ago, are you kidding me? What he does care about is finding out that you work with two attorneys & are going to need his name in order to file a complaint. It's amazing how quickly that gets things cleared up. Oh, and did I mention that someone loosened / removed the lug nuts on my mom's tire? Luckily, the temperatures were well below zero over the past week and she wasn't been zipping around as much as usual (her last name should have been Andretti) before it was discovered. Otherwise . . . well, I'm trying not to think too much about what could have happened. Or about what kind of twisted person does something like that on purpose.

And, frankly, the Rolaids aren't helping, we're almost out of truffles*, I already packed my books & the liquor (I don't know what I was thinking either) & I've taken so many bubble baths, I look like a Shar-Pei puppy. I'm out of ideas, patience & fortitude. Do you think it would be possible to sleep through the rest of the month?

* Or as I refer to them, Chocolate Therapy. Unfortunately, Mary is rudely hoarding them for herself. Even more unfortunately, she needs them at least as much as I do. February is kicking everyone's ass.

Proof That I am the Normal One Here

Co-worker
I'm running out for a little bit.

Me
Okay.

Co-worker
I'll be back in about 20 minutes.

Me
Okay.

Co-worker
School just let out & I have to go hide.

Me
(Stop working & turn to look at co-worker, certain that I have misunderstood her.)

Co-worker
Someone keeps knocking over the snowmen in my front yard
& I think it's one of the neighborhood kids.

Me
. . .

Co-worker
So I'm going to hide in my neighbor's yard & try to catch them.

Me
. . .

Co-worker
Otherwise, I'll have to stay up all night tonight to do it.

Me
(Suddenly understand how it is possible that this woman had
an accident with a parked car. Twice.)

And Another Thing

This is the funniest thing I have seen all year. Even better than KFed, I swear. Thank God for my insane but entertaining co-worker, Brian, who discovered this. I am so inviting Bubb Rubb & L'il Sis over for the holidays. Woo woooooo!

The Mind Boggles

Wait. KFed is . . . amusing? Self-deprecating? Not completely & utterly useless?

Damn.