Queen of Rambles

I’m not very coherent right now. Just feel like growling along until this while move is behind us. No one wants us so we are going to be homeless. I can’t say I blame them. Why rent to someone sight unseen when you can rent to someone sight seen. We have booked a hotel for the end of July. I can only hope we will have a GOOD place to leave by August 1. I found a great complex that I want to move into. Maybe they will e-mail me tomorrow.

Here’s a major piece of irony or something. . . I’ve been looking for a cat. After spending the last six months with a bunch of little animals I can’t imagine going back to a petless lifestyle. Most of the places there allow (and even seem to encourage(?) pets, so I figure a cat is just the thing. A little lap dog would be nice, but since I’m planning on working that just won’t work until we have a house. I don’t like the idea of leaving a dog alone in the house all day and I surely don’t like the idea of taking a dog on a walk at six in the morning. I don’t do mornings. Before moving in with our kitty I would have never even considered looking at cats, and I certainly wouldn’t have viewed their pictures as cute and cuddly. Now I have a problem! So many of the cats look cute and cuddly that I fear I could become a cat lady. Other than the cat allergies, of course. But if I take my Benedryl every day I don’t have issues with that anymore.

We do have everything but our clothing, computer, and a few random items all packed. We’re going shopping for Mikey-clothes tomorrow. Hopefully we will find some good, decent stuff and he will be set up for a while. Going from hickville house husband to metropolitan professional takes a major wardrobe upgrade.

I may have to whap Mike into submission when we arrive in DC. I mentioned something about furniture shopping the first week we are there and he seemed surprised. I guess he thinks we are going to sleep on the floor for a few months. WRONG! I don’t sleep on floors.

My grandma is weird. I know you already know that, but I have to share the latest. She never calls our animals by their correct gender. Bonkers if 14 years old and she always refers to her as him or he. Same with every single animal we’ve ever had. I exaggerate on here sometimes, but this is no exaggeration. We had a sweet little dog named Tubby for 16 years. He was very much a male with all the nasty humping that went along with it. Of course, she always called him a she. I don’t get it! I thought it was just an animal thing, but she’s been calling Braxton her/she. ARGH!!! We gave up correcting her about the animals years ago, but a baby? I know she KNOWS he is a boy. She bought him boy clothing. I don’t understand!

I really hope my sister decides to leave her situation soon. I talked to my mom for a very brief time today and things are just getting stranger and stranger down there. Already my sister’s “boyfriend” has brought down his teenaged son and some random 19 year old guy. None of the guys clean up so the house is more like a hovel (I think my sister is living with my mom more than she is over in her house). So now a friend of the boyfriend moved in with them too, along with his pregnant girlfriend (8 months). So that’s six adults in a little trailer. Nice. My sister runs with such losers that it is unbelievable. I need to call Jerry Springer and arrange an intervention. The guy is in his 30s and the pregnant girl is 20. The guy is MARRIED. The girl has another kid that was taken away from her. They are moving to NM so child services doesn’t take their new baby. The guy is planning on taking the baby back to Oregon and raising it with his WIFE when it is born. How? How do these people live? I don’t know if the girlfriend knows the plan or not. Child services will tomorrow after I place another call.

Ok, I gotta talk about something else or I will have a brain explosion.

And a note just for Julie and Daljani–my dad was outside sawing stuff all day so I finally convinced Mike that we could be very, very quiet and do a little destressing. Now you don’t have to worry about me imploding.

This entry was posted on Monday, July 12th, 2004 at 12:08 am and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.