So for Valentine's day we are putting our house on the market officially and looking at houses with another agent. The two-timing is a little dramatic but not very interesting and mostly stems from my impatience.
Its been a rough few days. Firstborn still has the ear infection, basically fluid behind his eardrums that won't go away. He is on a 3rd antibiotic. I learned that we have to live through this for 2 more months before an ENT will really get involved. Sigh. He and I both dealt with unpleasant digestive rejection from multiple directions over the weekend. I freaked out because there was so much work to do and all I could do was lay around. Dear Old Dad got to clean up lots of yuck. But somehow its all getting done.
On Friday, the 2nd snow of our odd winter, I was cleaning Firstborn up in a Kroger bathroom with cheap wipes I had swiped off the shelf (and paid for later) because he made a clothes-ruining diaper. While he was screaming at the top of his lungs in the 6 square foot bathroom with 3 stalls, random women commented on his cuteness or crying. One older lady decided it was a good time to give me some unsolicited advice involving salt in a bath. I was also without a change of pants for Firstborn and got to push him around the store in just a onesie and nekkid legs. I was so charged up with frustration that I was prepared for someone to comment on it because it was so cold outside. God is wise, because nobody did and I didn't have to say anything scathing I would regret.
And today I was at a different Kroger and upon checking out (and thoroughly annoying the teenagers who bagged groceries because I asked for paper bags and she had to work a bit extra to find them) I realized I lost my keys. I retraced to the car and couldnt find them (luckily I rarely lock my car). I checked with another teenager working customer service begging for some keys to be turned in and she was annoyed I bothered her to turn her head. I walked 20 feet back into the crowded store by the florist (remember, it's Feb 13) and started to bawl. A stranger carrying an armload of groceries asked me if I needed help and I got the attention of the 4 employees standing around chit chatting at the florist desk and asked for help finding my keys. I found them in the garbage can where I should have thrown out a dirty diaper (but didn't).
So Kroger and I have some bad karma lately. I have decided that I am not going to Lost Keys Kroger again. Too many fast inattentive drivers, too crowded inside, too many teenagers who can't be bothered to work, and the chance that I will run into my old principal (I saw her there once and avoided her). Yes, that's petty, but luckily I have choices.
So, back to the good stuff. Here's a list:
Tomorrow we sign official house-selling paperwork and look at houses. Yay.
Watching House and The Walking Dead really cheered me up (even though neither show is that cheery).
My chiropractor is awesome. I got in another good prenatal massage and an impromptu adjustment all while the sweet receptionist ladies watched Firstborn. I will travel the distance back to this town to keep going to her when we move.
Next week I am going out of town to hang with grandparents. I won't be able to help much except entertain them by chasing Firstborn, but that's ok. I won't be here worrying about the house selling.
I have a real estate agent friend who is showing a huge amount of integrity and helpfulness and I don't know how I can repay him.
That lady who offered to help me in Lost Keys Kroger was so awesome.
I think the trips to Home Depot might might might be finished for now, except for some things to return.
I have Girl Scout cookies in a clean refrigerator.
Despite my feeling like I'm losing mental capacity because I use my brain so much less on a daily basis, I can still rock the socks off of logarithms when I tutor.
Our Firstborn tax refund will be very nice.
My Grandma's surgery went fine.
I shouldn't have to go to Kroger (except maybe the drive through pharmacy for a non-bubble gum flavor med for Firstborn) until perhaps the weekend.
And its bedtime.
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