But what's new? So much little crap is going on and none of it is worth a full blog post, so as usual I will just condense it into bite size pieces so no one chokes -- much better than me chewing it up and regurgitating it down your throat for you.
*We are moving again. UGH! Due to circumstances beyond our control -- our landlord having grave financial troubles -- we are being skidded out on our behinds. I am getting pretty good at skidding on my behind. The other day I slipped on the ice and fell, skidding into Walmart on my right butt cheek. No, I wasn't at Walmart, I was going to my car to drive there but the ice thought it would be better for me to slide there on my right butt cheek. I got to my feet and checked to see if anyone saw me biff it, then examined my wounds. In Pride vs My Arse, Pride will win every time.
*Whenever we are talking to anyone about the houses we are looking at, Sugarbowl won't let me talk any more. She says that all my stories make her look like the village idiot and are edited to not reveal what a moron I am. I say that if she doesn't want me to tell any stories she needs to stop being the village idiot, then I won't have a story to tell. Besides, those stories are FUNNY and worth being told.
*Trying to find a house has been a huge struggle so far, Sugarbowl and I differing on what we want. She wants a more expensive house that is bigger and fancier that I think we need. I want a less expensive house that will give us more money to play with once we are in there. She also says that I want to hog the biggest bedroom and give her the tiny ones. In my defense, I keep my room clean and she DOES NOT! One house we looked at had hard wood floors in the bedroom that I thought she should have, because then I could just take a broom and push all her crap back. It also had a long deep closet that she could just keep shoving stuff into. It is a perfect plan! She was less than thrilled with my ideas for her room.
The thought of moving again makes me want to go back to bed for a week with an ice pack on my head. I want to pack up my spotted kerchief, tie it onto a stick from the yard, and leave the rest of our crap behind.
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1 comment:
Argghhh. I hate to move. In our first 8 years together, Skip and I moved 9 times. Since then (over 20 years), nary an additional move. The only good thing about moving is that it forced us to cull out the crap every year that is now accumulating without abatement in our house. In fact, 2 years ago, I had to rent a dumpster and clean stuff out lest we be overwhelmed by the piles. I see them creeping up again, though.
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