I Could Totally Be Her

I was sitting at work yesterday, and got to thinking about my house. I'm not quite sure why, but I tend to do this a lot when I am away from said house. I start thinking about all the things that need to be fixed. (BTW...I once had a realtor stalk me because she wanted to list our house. Finally, I told her that we needed time to fix things inside and get it in "show-worthy" condition. And she said, "It is only 5 years old, what possibly could need to be done?" And that? Made me feel like shit.)

Sometimes, with Workaholic working the schedule obsessive way that he does, I feel like I could be Annie from 7th Heaven. Remember that show? I am totally her, minus the minister for a husband, the seven kids, the never-ending patience, and the ability to do anything handy around the house. But I could be her. Minus the minister husband and the seven kids and the never-ending patience.

Let's see, since we've been living in the house for the past 6 1/2 years now, I shall list what needs fixed.


Paint: Pretty much the entire interior needs to be repainted, including but definitely not limited to the baseboards. I'm very hard on those with the vacuum cleaner. We apparently also are very hard on walls. There is some patching that will have to be done, due to some furniture re-arranging that wasn't done as carefully as it should have been.

Floor: The hardwood is scratched by more things than I can count (dogs, kids, furniture, the boy) and should be refinished. We will probably do that AFTER we move out.

Light bulbs: There is never a time when there is not a single light bulb out in my house. Right now, there is one in Sam's room and one in the hallway leading in from the garage. Why Gail...why don't you change them? you ask. Umm...yeah, I should. I'm generally too lazy to pull out the step ladder though.

Dust: There are 5 people, a dog, and a cat that are in this house most of the time. Did you know that dust is mainly composed of dead skin? And pet dander. So...yeah. I have no problem keeping the dust cleared off of places that are reachable, like picture frames and furniture. It's those high places, like ceiling fans and vanity lights that get me. Again with the step ladder.

Clutter: I just can't seem to ever put anything away. Ever. I have a laundry room with a nice counter top that you can't see. The bar in my kitchen is usually full of mail that needs opened, paperwork that needs filed, and crumbs that Workaholic doesn't wipe up.

Exterior: We have some damage from a storm a few years ago...spindles on a 2nd story balcony that were knocked off. Those need to be replaced. And there are a couple of spots where the wood needs to be replaced around one of our exterior doors. Plus, the screened in porch always needs to be vacuumed, and the landscaping could use a spring clean-up.


If I was Annie from 7th Heaven, I would totally get all this done. She was a Superwoman. A Supermom! I'm just me. Maybe I'll start small...changing the light bulbs. Work my way up to the dusting. (Get it? Work my way up? I crack myself up.)

Simplification

I need to simplify.

That is going to be my theme for 2011.

I don't know how it is going to work out.

7 years ago, Workaholic was deeply involved in building our house. He built it himself. With (LOTS) of help from his dad and brothers and various friends who he had helped to build their houses.

6 1/2 years ago, we moved into our house. We incurred some debt buying furniture. (And yes, we have paid it off.) Here is the thing about our house...it is pretty big. We have lots of rooms and closets that we thought we would never ever use when we built this house. I was very adamant that there was plenty of room to "store" things and enough space to make any woman happy. The intention was to sell the house after 2 years, we would never need all that room. I didn't worry too much about decorating, or hanging pictures on the walls, because there was no point, we wouldn't be there forever.

And suddenly, I find myself out of room. I don't understand, or even know how it happened. I suppose the 2 small children have contributed. And my frequent trips to the outlets mall, and online shopping too. And having a husband who doesn't believe in telling me "no" didn't help either.

But I look around my bedroom and see things that need to be "put away." I see things that I don't REALLY need. I see closets full of clothes that Workaholic forgot he owned, and so I keep buying him more. (see above regarding the outlet mall) I go into the girls' rooms and see clothes that they have already outgrown, even though I JUST took them out of storage. I go into my dining room...and then just turn around and walk out. I buy picture frames to hang up family photos and realize that I have no wall room left. I don't know how this happened.

I am not sure where we are going to put the 12 foot tall Christmas tree that my in-laws are handing down to us. There is baby stuff cluttering my living room...a baby swing, bouncy seat, toy chest, Bumbo seat, floor activity mat...not to mention the assortment of dog toys and children's books that are strewn daily across the floor.

I am used to leaving my house on the weekends, getting away, and forgetting all about the mess. Forgetting about my lack of organization, my knack for leaving things laying around, and the usually empty pantry and refrigerator. Going away is my saving grace, but also my downfall, as leaving your home during the time when most people get all their shit done is not very conducive to getting things done.

I am home this weekend. Workaholic got Thanksgiving Day off, but has been working ever since. Sometimes there are times like this, he gets close to the end of a job and it is crunch time. It is what it is. I should be using this time to pick up the house. Clean the clutter. Put away the Halloween costumes that have been staring at me for a month. Clean off the counters in the kitchen and wrap and hide Christmas presents. Now is not the time of year to be disorganized.

Perhaps I will. Maybe I'll finish writing this, watch the rest of the NCIS episode that is on USA, and go find an empty storage bin. Maybe I'll put away the laundry, vacuum the upstairs, and feed my girls dinner. Maybe I'll take a nap and hope that when I wake up, it is 2011...and someone else organized my life for me.

Either way, on this weekend of thanks, I'm going to stop feeling sorry for myself. I'm going to not wish that I didn't have a house that is too big for me to handle...no matter how much help I get. I'm going to feel grateful for my girls, and my Fonz, and my Workaholic, and for all the other wonderful things that I have in my life. Because if there is one thing that I have learned by living in this house for the past 6 1/2 years, is to count your blessings. When you are feeling overwhelmed, sometimes that is all you can do.

List, Schmlists

Have you ever noticed how people blame their, um...idiosyncrasies on their last name? Like, my family is very forgetful. My mother is not, so it’s all put on my father. (poor guy) Whenever he loses something or forgets something, she just sighs and rolls her eyes, as she has been dealing with it for 40+ years. When one of us kids forgets something, she sighs and rolls her eyes and says, “It’s the G in you.” (I won’t even let him blame brain surgery on forgetting things…I tell him he was that way before.) Usually the forgetfulness involves wallets and car keys, and at the most inopportune of times.

My in-laws have a very ethnic last name. So much so, that people seem to think that I’m Irish, even though I married into the family and obviously am not red-haired and freckled, or a dark-haired beauty. If I get mad about something, it’s “Oh…you have an Irish temper.” Yeah…I’m mostly German, not a spec of Irish. But that’s beside the point.

I will say that when it is convenient, I’ll blame a temper tantrum on my “heritage.” It’s easy, and people seem to accept it. My husband and his father love to blame things on their last name, from restless legs to holding grudges. (I say nurture over nature, but whatever.) One thing they don’t blame on their last name is forgetfulness. Sorry dad, I guess we do have to blame you.

Since I tend to be so forgetful, and it has gotten much, much worse since I was a kid, I make lists. (My mom actually grounded me from staying the night at my friends’ houses because I couldn't come home without leaving something there. The last straw was my glasses and I think it made us late for church. I also once went to a slumber party and forgot to take my sleeping bag and pillow.) Now, if it isn’t on the list, then it doesn’t get done. The downfalls of “being organized.”

I make lists for everything. At work, I make a list if I have a lot to get done in a particular day or week. For month end, I have a three page list. When we leave the lake, I make a list of the things that we need to bring back the next weekend. (I also have an issue not losing that list.) And now, since I am due in 11 days, I have a list of things that need to be done to get ready for the baby.

The vague part of this list included moving our office to the basement and making our office Sam’s new room. This involved painting both rooms, as well as moving massive quantities of random crap to our basement. That in itself took several hours for 2 grown men to do. I was shocked that we had so much stored in the office. All of which is now scattered around my basement. As well as Sam’s toys, which were in the playroom which is now the new office.

So let’s recap, in 11 days or less, I’ll have a new baby. And Sam is still in the nursery, the furniture that I bought is still in our garage, and my basement is still trashed. I’m not panicking or anything. We did go to the lake this weekend instead of staying home and work like responsible adults.

I’ve decided to not look at my lists anymore. That’ll make everything better. Maybe I can just forget everything that is on them.

To Key, or Not to Key

Let me present a hypothetical situation for you.

Let’s say that you drive a car. And you have an attached garage. So you drive your car into your attached garage using the garage door opener to open the garage door. And then you walk into your house.

Now, let’s also say that you have a front door that can’t be opened just using a key. It also has to also be unlocked from the inside.

Sooo….if you always go into your house using your garage door opener, and can’t open your front door just using a key, do you automatically carry a key to your house?

I ask this because I got into trouble on Friday. My hypothetical came true. You see, we bought a new freezer. And it was delivered on Friday. Into our garage. Workaholic locked the door between the house and the garage, so shady delivery men couldn’t go a-wandering through our house. Which, in hindsight, I suppose was a good idea. (because it was mine!!) He made sure that he had a key to unlock said door. (after I told him I was pretty sure I did NOT have a key) Since he left after me, the door was indeed unlocked before I left.

Now let me explain Friday evening. I get home after picking up Sam at daycare after work. It is about 85 degrees outside with 200% humidity. It was roughly 180 degrees with 300% humidity inside my garage. And I had to pee. And Sam was hungry. And I had a million things to pack up to go to the lake. And the fucking door was locked.

I called Workaholic, because yes, this happened once before a few years ago. And we had another key made, and it was supposed to be “hidden” in the garage. But sometime over the past few years, that key has made its way onto “someone’s” keychain. He was an hour away, but in reality, more like 3 hours away. So finally, after a half hour of looking in various hiding spots around the outside of the house, I just got back into the car and drove to the lake. (Which actually worked out, because I got there before dark, and was able to eat a decent dinner.)

And Workaholic had to do all the packing himself. And he didn’t get to the lake until 3am. HAHA!!

So I am just curious…if you were me…would you have a key???

Dad & Wardrobe Update

First of all, I want to thank everyone for their well wishes and prayers for my dad. It means so much to us that we have so many people praying for him. I know it means a lot to him too.

I just got a call from my mom, he is going to have another surgery tomorrow at 9am. He had a CT scan right after his surgery, then another one yesterday at 5am. The second one was worse than the one right after his surgery. So they got him up and walking around, and did another one this morning at 7:30am. Based on that one, his doctor decided that they need to go back in and drain more fluid and clean things up a bit. So a bigger hole in his head. The level of risk is the same, so I am hopeful that he will be able to recover in a similar manner and get the heck outta the hospital and be able to recuperate at home in a few days.


Secondly, and this is totally off the subject, but I have to tell you how I brought out my maternity clothes last night. It’s something that I know I’ve needed to do for a while, but was too lazy/tired/trying to keep my house clean for open houses to do it. And I had 3 immediate thoughts…

1) OMG…these clothes are so. much. cuter. than my regular wardrobe. What the hell took me so long to unpack them?

b) OMG…I have so. many. more. maternity clothes than I do regular clothes. What the hell took me so long to unpack them??

3) Workaholic is wrong, I do need to wash these before I wear them. (His theory was that I didn’t actually pack them up that long ago, and I washed them before I packed them. He was not right, but I didn’t realize it until I was hanging up the third to last shirt. And yes, I did hang up all the shirts before deciding to take them all down and wash them. Damn him for not being a housewife.) And what the hell took me so long to unpack them???

It is actually really sad, looking at my closet now. I took down all the shirts that I probably will never wear again. And I put them into a bin. Even though I will never wear them again because a) they are ugly or 2) they will not fit. Most of these shirts I haven’t worn since before I got pregnant with Sam, because I didn’t like the way they fit!! What is wrong with me?? Seriously??

I think I just like getting good deals on clothes. I wore a lot of hand-me-downs as a kid, partially because I think my mom really hated shopping and partially because money was tight. So now, when I see a good deal on a shirt I think is cute, I buy it. And then I get it home and realize that I hate it. It is usually shirts, because do you have any idea how hard it is to find pants for a woman with a big ass/thighs and a 25 inch in-seam??? I already gave 3 huge trash bags full of clothes to Goodwill, but I am thinking I need to make another run. Even though that will put us over the maximum donation amount on our tax return for 2010. Get ‘em outta my house!!

Maybe if I start purging and “packing”, then the house will sell. Maybe? Just maybe??

15 Months

Sam had her 15 month check-up today. She weighs 20lbs, 8 oz (yay, she broke the 20lb mark!) and is 29 ¾ inches tall. That puts her in the 25-30th percentile for height and 20th percentile for weight. Just a little kid, that’s all.

She used to be very cooperative at the doctor, she’d smile and let her listen to her heartbeat and look in her mouth and ears. Somewhere in the past few months, my toddler has decided that she doesn’t like the doctor, or the nurses, and WILL NOT cooperate, at all. So she cries, and pushes away using her hands and there is kicking and screaming involved. Who knew it was so hard to hold down a 15 month old? Yes, that kid you hear all the way down the hallway? Is mine. She doesn’t even like the scale! What’s so bad about a scale??

She also loves to be outside. Absolutely. loves. it. I blame it on her being a winter baby, and probably not really remembering much of last summer. She’ll run down the driveway when I get home, we go get the mail together, and sometimes she stops and scruches her shoulders and just giggles and claps her hands. That happy to be outside. She doesn’t need any fancy outdoorsy slides or anything like that yet…she is perfectly content wandering around the backyard and chasing The Fonz. Our yard is about ½ acre, which probably seems like the Great Plains to her.

I can’t wait to take her to the lake and see how many times this summer she gets knocked off the pier by Fonz. (Yes, I know that is not a good thing and it could be very dangerous, but she’ll be supervised at all times when she is outside. But I know him, and I know her, and I know how things are, and it’s gonna happen. Might as well resign to that fact, rather than get all freaked out and angry when it does. Last summer, our neighbor girl who was 3 at the time got knocked off of their pier by Fonz with her dad standing right next to her. She was a little freaked out, but fine. And I think she liked telling the story later. “Bo made me go in da wada!”)

In other news, we had a showing last Saturday, and there were 2 negative comments. One was about the green. If you haven’t heard me mention it before, our house is green. The siding is a light olive color, which I think is very pretty and complements the stone well. The trim is a forest green. As in, it matches the grass. So while we love the green, we have to wonder how many people won’t even come and look at the house, even if we offer a credit for painting. This made Workaholic call a painter friend of his to get an estimate. To paint the green. The green that we’ve spent the past almost 6 years defending. The green that when people say, “I hate that!”, we say, “Well, it’s our house, and we built it, and we like it, so suck it!”

I think that if we paint the green, it’ll be a sad, sad day. Some of our neighbors will probably rejoice, and say “I told you so”, when the house sells a few weeks later. Others will probably be sad, since they use the green house as a landmark. I might even shed a tear. Either way, we had a green house. And it’s awesome.

Spring Cleaning...A List is Made

Last weekend was one of those weekends that just makes you long for summer. And it also was one of those weekends that makes me really happy that I don’t have to stay home every single weekend during the summer. By Sunday night, I was pacing the floor waiting for Workaholic to get home. He’d been working all weekend, which I knew was going to happen, and I chose to stay home, because I am lazy and didn’t feel like packing or driving. I also had kidded myself into thinking that I’d go to church on Sunday, which of course, did not happen. I knew that I had another closet of clothes to go through and put away due to my every-expanding belly, and a couple of containers of maternity clothes that also could be brought out, but that is no fun. I didn’t want to do that.

In my pacing, I started to notice things about the house which I’ve always seen, but they never really bothered me. And they started to bother me. Workaholic made the comment the other day that it seems like I just think of things for him to do when he is sitting still. So I tried to refrain from making a list, but I’m now at work, and I can’t stop thinking of these things. The paint touch-ups, that light bulbs that need to be changed, the drywall tape that popped, the little blue foam pads that they put underneath furniture when they clean your carpet, and don’t get me started on the landscaping!! AAHHH THE LANDSCAPING!! We’ve let it go for a couple of years, and now an overhaul is needed. And I am pretty sure I am not going to be able to get my mom up here to go on a planting spree. And the garage, the garage!!…Sauna anyone?

Many of these things might not bother me if we weren’t trying to sell the house. Our house, at first glance, is perfectly presentable. But when you look a little closer, there are just THINGS that should be done. And there is a certain amount of staging that needs to happen, and I know that is my responsibility. Many of the pictures that we have around the house are going to get packed up, except the ones on the walls. Those are staying. Because I don’t have anything to replace them, and even though “they” say that you shouldn’t have pictures of yourself all over the place because then people can’t imagine themselves living there, I am fairly certain that pictures of my cute kid and good-looking siblings are better than a nail sticking out of the wall. (No, we’re not conceited, why do you ask?)

I am making a list, because I am a big fan of lists. We’ll see if anything actually gets crossed off of the list. I have one for me, and a much, much longer one for Workaholic. And believe it or not, nothing on the list is related to “getting ready for baby.” I’m just not there yet. I’ll start to panic around August, which is when I am due, and if karma works out, probably when we’ll sell the house. Keep your fingers crossed! In the meantime, I hope that summer hurries up and gets here. I’m ready.

I'm a Mom!

It’s happened. It’s true. I am a typical parent. Sigh. I just didn’t think it would happen this soon. (Yes, Sam is 14 months old and I am 17 weeks along with our second. But still.)

When I was pregnant the first time around, and we realized that not only did we need a bigger car, but needed a minivan, Workaholic would always tease me that I would be the soccer mom with French fries under the seat. And that the car would smell funny. I vehemently denied that this would be me, and the first time we ate McDonalds on the way to the lake, he dropped a fry and I went all bug-eyed Psycho crazy on him. So imagine my horror when, yesterday, he pulled forward the middle seat so our friend could get in the back, and there was a baby bottle underneath. Not just any bottle, but a half-full bottle of milk. That had curdled!! Eww!!!

Oh the embarrassment!! And to happen in front of friends too!! Who will just mock me relentlessly for the next year!! I now want to take all the seats out of the van and vacuum it and clean the carpets. We did get those Weather Tech floor mats, (which were a savior BTW), so really, the only part of the carpet that needs to be cleaned is the spots under the seat, where I spilled curdled milk.

Since I am now a typical mom, I’ll give you a Samantha update: She was 19lbs, 12 oz (nope…not yet 20lbs!) at her last appointment a couple of weeks ago, which was for a double ear infection. She was pulling at her ear yesterday, which means absolutely nothing because she has never once done that when she actually had an ear infection. The signs last time? She slept for 19 hours straight and just didn’t seem like herself. No fever. No ear pulling. No head tilt or other various ticks. She had a runny nose, if that even counts for a child that goes to daycare. The only reason we got in to see the doctor as quick as we did is because Workaholic lied to the nurse on the phone and said that she’d had a fever for a couple of days. Hey, it worked!

She now knows how to run, and walk backwards. That is her newest trick that she likes to show off. She also has the first half of blowing kisses down. And, the best part, she is finally showing an interest in Fonz. She’ll randomly walk up to him and pet him, and look at us and smile real big, since she is “being nice.” She also tries to throw his toys for him, she knows which ones are his, and will pick one up and drop it in front of her. (For his part, he typically ignores this, because really? That just isn’t exciting enough for him.) For a child who will whip anything across the room from her high chair, I know she can do better, so we’re working on it. We decided that Fonz is roughly the size of a horse compared to her, so when she occasionally covers her face or goes running when he comes near, we sort of understand. She’s been knocked on her ass a fair number of times.

That’s about all I know. Oh wait…we did have an open house yesterday, a couple of people seemed interested, so we’ll see if that goes anywhere. Again, not getting my hopes up, except I am. I think I am going to spend the rest of my day debating whether to eat the Fannie May candy bars (yes, plural) I just bought, or the peanut butter cup cupcake my friend brought me. Pretty sure the cupcake will win out.

Another Swine Flu Update

I think this is going to be a looong winter. It is October. And Samantha has already had a double ear infection, and some sort of fever illness. I don't know if she actually had the flu, or if it was just a reaction to the H1N1 vaccine. Yes, I am that parent whose kid had a cough, just a teeny tiny cough, and got her vaccines, and of course, she got sick.

It started almost immediately, but the fever didn't kick in until the next day. It last about 2 1/2 days, and now she is OK. A little whiny, and a lot snotty, but OK. But guess who she coughed all over while lying on his chest? And guess who didn't gargle with salt water or Listerine and probably didn't wash his hands before he ate? And guess who is sick now? (If you ask him though, he doesn't have the flu, just a fever, aches and a cough. Whatever.)

So that has been my weekend. So far, illness has ruined at least 3 weekends for me this fall. I am getting a lot done around the house though, so whatever. If you can't tell, I am not really feeeling all that inspired to write something witty or funny, or even try. I'm just updating the world on my sickhouse. Hopefully I won't come down with anything. But if I do...the laundry is done, the bathrooms are clean, the floors are vacuumed, the house is dusted, and there will be food in this house!

(Isn't is sad how as you get older your everyday goals change? I remember when my goal used to be to get out of bed before my parents got home from work so they didn't know that I slept all day. Ahh...how times change)

Quick Update

I’ve got so much I’d like to write about, but not much time. So I’ll just give you a quick update of my head.

Jon Gosselin…you should be ashamed of yourself. Think before you act! And while you are at it, think for yourself every once in a while.

We are leaving for London on Thursday. I am super excited, but not nearly as excited as my sister who is meeting me there. I am also super nervous about leaving Samantha for 5 days. What if she forgets about me while I am gone? Right now, I am the definite favorite in her life. I hope I’m not scarring her by abandoning her at this critical stage of her life development. (notice, that worry isn’t stopping me from going)

I spent hours this weekend cleaning and organizing my house. A partial list of everything that I put into storage is 6 bins of clothes, 2 baby bathtubs, a travel swing, a full-size swing, a bouncy seat, a Bumbo seat, 2 floor playmats, 2 file boxes full of paper that doesn’t have anything to do with me, a computer monitor, and the cradle. I also cleaned my bathroom, dusted and vacuumed the whole house, and made dinner. Important to note that the most amazing part of the weekend was the fact that I made dinner. (One thing I do not understand is how you can follow your mother’s recipe to a T and it tastes almost nothing like when she makes it. Not fair. I think it’s sabotage.)

I gave Fonz a bath and he got his teeth cleaned on Friday…so until he starts eating the poo from the backyard again, his breath no longer smells like shit!! AND, he smells like Suave Ocean Breeze. However, he does have an ear infection, so he’s got that goopy ear fur. Yucky.

I don’t understand for the life of me how on God’s Green Earth Purdue lost for the 2nd weekend in a row in the 4th quarter, on the 4th down, with less than 30 seconds left. (apparently someone else does though) Maybe in a couple of years we’ll win a game. Such goes the life of a Cubs/Boiler fan.

Have a great week everyone!

Crazy? I hope not.

A few weeks back, I went to the doctor and he mentioned that I might have a touch of OCD. I thought this was hil-arious until I started thinking about certain things that I do, and to be honest, I haven’t stopped thinking about it. Does this affect my life? If so, how does it affect it? Do I need to be worried about this? Can I change my behavior? What parts of me are to be blamed for this off-hand diagnosis?

So I just now decided to google OCD. And fortunately, I don’t think I am clinical. I just don’t have all the symptoms, and especially the part about doing something to prevent a dreaded event. I just do things, well, because that is how my mind works. I don’t think the world is going to end or anything.

Samantha has been sick lately, and so I have been home more in the past 3 days than I have since before Memorial Day. And my house is driving. me. insane. Because it is trashed. I have someone come and clean every 2 weeks. So it isn’t “call CPS because the house is unfit for human habitation”…yet. (My beloved person who cleans has to have a HIP REPLACEMENT, and so she won’t be able to clean for at least 6 weeks. I am counting on 8-10, if not longer, but we’ll see.)

I was lying in bed last night, writing this blog in my head, as a way of going to sleep. You see, I have to make a list of the things I want to do in order to be able to allow my mind to rest. (Xanex works too, but my doctor wouldn’t give me that because it is too addictive…geez!) I thought I might allow you a little insight into why my house is still trashed, and to see if anyone else has the same insane, irrational way of thinking. (PS…I am currently eating Rolos for breakfast)

I have at least 5 bins of baby clothes and maternity clothes that need to be put out of sight, into a storage area of some sort. (when we were building our house, I was VERY insistent that there was lots and lots of storage, because women like storage, and I am a woman, and we were hoping to sell the house to a man and a woman…and since most women have at least a little say in things, storage is important.) However, I can’t decide exactly WHERE I would like this storage area to be, and I have those thingys that come in shoeboxes that are supposed to help keep things fresh, but you have to do something to them to get them to work again, but I haven’t done that and am not sure what “that” is, so I don’t want to put the boxes away until I can put the thingys in there and am positive where I’d like to keep them. PLUS, I need to pack up another bin of clothes that Samantha has outgrown, AND burp cloths and such, except those should go in the newborn bin, but that one is full, so I need to empty it out and reorganize it. And she really hasn’t outgrown the clothes YET, so it would almost be premature to pack up another bin. I might run short on clothes.

Fonz swam a lot in the lake this summer, but something was different, and the lake made him stink. Like shit. And typically we didn’t get a chance to give him a bath before we headed back to the lake. So the landing where he spends most of his day is dirty. As in, you can see the dirt on the carpet dirty. And even though we have given him baths, he still smells a little. Like shit. Because even though he is clean, he lies on the landing and reabsorbs the stinky lake smell into his fur and then continues to smell like shit. I have a bottle of carpet cleaner that I BOUGHT one time when I got my carpets professionally cleaned. So it is the same stuff they use, or at least that is what they tell me. But do I use it to clean the landing? No. Because I am convinced that the carpet needs to be professionally cleaned again, and I won’t follow the directions and probably screw up my carpet since I tend to scrub when it says to blot.

We also have a lot of baby stuff that Samantha doesn’t use anymore. Lots. Big things, like…swings. And travel swings. And baby bathtubs (of which there are 2, I am still confused as to why). And bouncy seats…although I might keep one of those out, because I just found out that you aren’t supposed to feed a baby a bottle flat on their back, apparently that is the leading cause of ear infections. And all last week, I fed Sam her bottle on her back while I got ready, and VOILA…she has a double ear infection. Go figure. Anyway, I digress. So I want to put all of this extra stuff away. But I can’t decide where it should go. And how it should be packed up. I mean, if I just put it into a closet, do I need to wrap it up to keep it clean? And how do you wrap up a full size swing? And speaking of closets, we have lots of them. And since we are busy/lazy people, if we see things out and we have guests coming over who we don’t want to see those things, we will throw them in a closet. So most of our closets are full of random crap that I am not even sure what it is or if we even need to keep. So really, if I am going to put this stuff in a closet, I need to clean out the closets and get rid of crap from our college days. OR, I could put it in the crawl space under the hallway leading in from the garage, but there are all kinds of empty boxes and stolen photo albums and things from the wedding that I have thrown in there. So THAT needs to be cleaned out as well. And the last time I was in there, I whacked my head pretty good and broke the light bulb since the space is only 4 feet tall. So I need to replace the light bulb and find a hard hat.

Also, I don’t have pictures of Samantha hanging up in my house. WHAT??!! You say? What kind of a mother ARE you anyway??? Here is the thing. I have lots of pictures hanging up. Many of them are from our wedding. And I spent a LOT of money, not so long ago, on those pictures. So I am not real keen on just putting new ones in and tossing out the old ones. And I’ve got other pictures in frames, but my family or Workaholic’s family are in them, and I like to be reminded that it is not all about me. I do have family that I love. So I bought a couple of new picture frames specifically for Samantha. And I put pictures in them! And asked Workaholic to hang them! And they are still lying on the couch in our room! Where they have been for 6 months!! Yes, I could probably figure out how to hang them myself, except here is the thing. I am married to a CARPENTER. I do think that should have some advantages, right??? Like, having someone else hang up your pictures?? So they won’t fall down when the door slams because you have too many windows open and it is crazy windy outside?

There are other things are bugging me about my house, but those are the biggies. And some stuff, I am just weird about. Take my wood floors for instance. I am a firm believer that mops are gross. And that the proper way to clean a wood floor is on your hands and knees, with a rag. But who has TIME to do that?? And the energy, and the back pain! So yes, my floors get cleaned by my cleaning lady, and I could give a shit how she does them. But if I do them, it has to be the right way. Weird, huh?

After looking at my list, and my excuses, I am thinking that this isn’t a list of OCD things. This is a list of Gail being lazy. If I put those boxes away, it would be out of sight, out of mind. I wouldn’t lie in bed at night, like I do now, wondering how to get those thingys-from-the-shoeboxes reactivated. But it is just getting me to do that…put those boxes away, or break down the swing and make a decision on where I would like to hide it until it is needed again. It is physically hard. And then I wonder if it is just a touch of OCD…like my doctor said.

Kinda Creeped Out Right Now

When we built our house, Workaholic wanted to put in a security system. I didn't want to spend the money, because we had just spent a fortune building a big house in a nice neighborhood, and I'll be damned if I spend more money protecting myself from...the rich teenagers that peruse my neighborhood?

And then our house started making weird noises. I'd hear what sounded like glass breaking in the basement. Or I'd hear a really big bang. (turns out that was a door slamming...just not sure why the door in the basement decided to randomly close) Or I'd hear a series of bangs. Sometimes Fonz would bark like crazy, usually not. He's one hell of a guard dog. I got used to the noises, they still weirded me out, but I wasn't scared like the first time I heard something. I've always been a little cautious about staying home alone, but I am not totally a scared-y cat.

Tonight, Workaholic is in Lafayette helping friends of ours build a fence. I didn't go, because I sort of feel like shit...I either have a cold or God decided to bless me with allergies. Samantha and I took two 3 hour naps today...it was awesome. So I'm hanging out in my bedroom, Sam is down the hall in hers, and Fonz is asleep on the bed next to me. Quiet night, I've checked the doors twice to make sure they are locked.

And then I am scared shitless when I hear what sounds like someone pounding on the front door. My first thought is, "Why the hell are they knocking when they could just ring the doorbell?" And then I think that it sounds more like it came from inside the house. Damn dog...why isn't he worried? I jumped out of bed and ran into Samantha's room, flipping on the light. She sort of woke up, but she is fine. The thing is, she has a sliding glass door in her room, leading out to a balcony. She is on the second floor, but it still worries me. I call Fonz to come to the front door with me...and there is no one there. He was slow to come off the bed, go figure.

So I sort of do the rounds, turning on lots of lights, and re-check the doors. All is quiet now. And I think to myself, "I wish we had a security system. I wonder if the cops would be mad at me if I called and just asked them to come over and check things out." I figure they would be mad, and might not even come, so I don't call. No reason to cry wolf.

Now I am sitting on the bed, typing this while watching an old episode of Southland. Real smart to watch a cop show when I'm all worried about my house getting broken into. Every little noise I hear makes me jump, and I'm going to have Samantha sleep in her cradle in our room tonight. And when Workaholic gets home...we'll be pricing a security system.