Marcy said that this kind of stuff only happens to me or her mother.

But I refuse to believe it. There must be others out there who also bravely and without complaint live lives of quiet desperation! When we moved out of the apartment I canceled our cable, phone and internet. At least, I thought I did. According to Comcast I called and told them I was moving but there was no record of me actually asking them to cancel our service. I talked to a supervisor on the phone but got nowhere. I was assured that their infallible computer system would have logged my call. Clearly not, since I know I called twice and I wrote an actual date on my calendar for the disconnection. They had a record of when we transferred our phone to a different company. They received their equipment back but quite naturally assumed (and rightly so) that I would like to pay for internet that no one can access in a place I no longer live.

The loveliest part of the conversation was when the supervisor snippily said to me that they didn’t even have a forwarding address, implying perhaps that we didn’t really move or that we were trying to skip out without paying which clearly wasn’t the case since it was automatically charged to a credit card. I felt like she was a vindictive ex-boyfriend who was going to keep the dog and break my dishes if I insisted on leaving. We were at an impasse.

Then my husband called customer service and snap it’s done. Comcast was super nice to him and they will credit us for the last two months we were charged for.

Step One is Admitting you have a Problem

I managed to get nothing done yesterday except to forget to take Bri to her piano lesson. Her teacher called because she was worried that something had happened to Bri. I reassured her that Bri was fine. My brain obviously was not. I guess I’ve hit rock bottom. I don’t care that the house is a mess. Is that step two in moving recovery? My husband's parents can sit on boxes and eat off plastic dishes. My husband actually asked me if we were going to use real dishes again because I hadn’t unpacked them yet. I reassured him that at some point in the future we would, uhh probably. Maybe I can even get use to this wallpaper.

Almost Back to Normal

On our way back from New Hampshire Saturday, after we had our haircuts; my friend told me that the “house me” was different from the “apartment me.” She said that I’m different now (better). Not as mental but she thinks I haven’t fully recovered from living in the apartment yet and I might want to look into Zoloft. I’m stressing because my house isn’t unpacked. My husband’s parents are coming Tuesday. Two of my friends and their kids are coming Monday, I’m babysitting, and the kids still have piano, MyGym and Tae Kwan Do. I can’t figure out when I have time to clean. Oh, probably right now.

It’s vacation week for Will this week but I still want the house unpacked. I told the kids if they helped me enough we would take them to Six Flags on Thursday. Unfortunately, I noticed that “house me” is yelling at the kids to help me put junk away. It's not working. What do you call it when you keep doing the same thing hoping to get a different result? Let’s call it optimism. I do think I need Zoloft.

It’s Not a Mud Pie

I really thought I would have my house unpacked by now and I would be taking down wall paper. I was delusional. I forgot I owned so much crap. I don’t know where to put anything so I started a pile of things to get rid of but it's not big enough to make a difference yet. I was putting Lizzy to bed when I heard the gut clenching sound (for me) of water hitting the floor. Will was the only other person in the house and even if he wasn’t, statistically speaking he is responsible for at least 80% of the really large messes made in our house.

There was a time when our favorite Massaman curry paste was out of stock in the Asian market and it can take months for more to come in. So my husband bought a lot of spices and experimented with making his own spice blend. We still have a lot of those spices left. Will dumped out four cups of cumin and was adding a significant amount of water. I don't know if he was hungry or just wanted a little more zing in his food. Anyway, he took his third bath of the day while I cleaned up the floor, counter, cabinets and previously washed dishes.

Oh, why did we keep those spices?

Petty Tyrants

I’ve noticed in all my dealings with government officials and federal employees that there are two reactions to having that kind of job. Let’s start with the understanding that the whole “having a job thing” is a bother and anyone who asks questions or makes them work is an added inconvenience. Now keeping that premise in mind there are two major (many more minor) reactions when you need any help. The first reaction is that the person stays relatively normal. The second reaction is that the person goes power mad, in this case it doesn’t matter how much or little power the person actually possesses. You can, for instance, have a power mad receptionist and it’s ugly.

But I’m not sure who raises these people? Certainly, my parents never said that it was acceptable to insult or be really sarcastic to strangers. I know I would have some harsh words for my children if they routinely acted like mouthy seven year olds! I was on the phone with some winner from the post office. I said that I didn’t think my mail had been forwarded yet. “You don’t think?” She responded.

I thought about saying, “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you weren’t a native speaker. I don’t think means that I am not 100% certain but it is not likely.” But, unfortunately in times like these, my parents’ installation of good manners surfaces and I don’t say anything that I desperately want to say. However, the longer I live in the East the closer I get to saying it. (No, it’s not living in the East I’m just turning crabby.) I have to be satisfied with saying, “No, I don’t think it has.” Do these people think I have nothing better to do than talk to them. I don’t want to talk to them. They give me headaches and cause me to rededicate myself to teaching my children good manners! When I would much rather sit at the computer, eat chocolate and let my children raise themselves.

I really did have to call 911!

Several guys came over to help us unload the trailer today. It's a sad commentary on the work ethic of children when other kids are more help unloading than the children who actually own the stuff.

Some of the furniture was scuffed. I wonder if it would have come through the move better if we hadn't shipped it to Dallas than shipped it back to Massachusetts.

My husband was disconnecting the spring on the pull down ladder to the attic when it hit him on the funny bone and sliced open his elbow. His arm immediately went numb and tingly, he thought he broke his arm and was really annoyed. A friend drove him to the emergency room and I tried to put things away in the house. Bri was watching Will in the back yard but he slipped away and we couldn’t find him. We searched the house and the backyards of the neighbors around us but we couldn’t find him so I called 911. I gave the police the wrong description of what he was wearing because I forgot I changed his clothes.

After what seemed like forever they showed up. A policeman found him down the end of our very, very long street and around the corner. I was so relieved! This is the second time police have brought him back home. Then I loaded him and Lizzy in the car to go pick up my newly sewn up husband.

And now some semi positive news: The toothbrush is out of the holder. I showed it to someone who swish, swish pulled it out without any tools! I was a little annoyed. I'm sure I loosened it with all the hammering! If he had pulled out the toothbrush then cemented the tile back then I would have been really impressed.

The Trend Continues

When we sold our first house years ago; a couple of days before we moved out Brianne found yellow paint and painted the carpet in her room, her blankets, and the walls. What do you do? When my husband was in grad school his parents bought a new house and let us live in their old house. We, of course, caused no damage whatsoever to that house not even the day before we moved out; although, we did have to build a half wall to keep Jake from turning off the water heater. Cold showers everyday for a week will influence you to take drastic measure.

The day before we moved out Will found a sharpie. Background: Will likes to draw on stuff, a lot. Markers don’t last long around our house because he likes to chew on them (they’re not poisonous—I called) and draw on books, walls, legal documents, his sibling's homework . . . He wrote A, E, I, O, U in permanent marker all over two of the air conditioners. I went to CVS to buy nail polish remover at 10:00 pm. It blurred the vowels a little. My husband found something that dissolves plastic. That worked on one of the air conditioners. We defaced the air conditioners. The screen is broken. I broke the disposal. We leave mattresses by the dumpster. My kids ate so many cookies in the office they were banned from taking any more. Will screamed and rolled down the hallway. I’m surprised they didn’t throw a party when we left!

One thing did go smoothly

When we had our phone number transferred over to the new house we switched to a new company. For that whole day we could use the phone at both the apartment and the new house. It only rang at the house but I could call out at both. I even tried calling myself.