It's been a month of obsessions and consuming passions here, folks.
Larry and I are, unfortunately, obsessed with home improvement. We had to fix up this dump we call home to sell it; and now that it is sold (ta-da! we did it! boy are we lucky...), we get to fix up the next place. Anything to keep the economy strong and growing...
Larry actually stayed up all night one night last week to paint. Believe me, he is way too old to do that. My favorite part of getting the house ready to sell was scrubbing the grout on the kitchen floor night after night after night. It paid off, though. Our house was on the market for only 4 days. I know I couldn't have lasted much longer. It felt like boot camp around here. I'd jump out of bed in the morning, make all the beds, sweep and swiffer all the floors, wipe down all the bathrooms, hide the dirty laundry, and finally, 2 hours later, look around to try to find the kids. I'd spend the rest of the day making sure they stayed outside. I even fed them out there. They had a great time, of course (aside from dealing with a crazy mother) - we kept picking up food from Wendy's or Chick-Fil-A (thanks, Grandpa) rather than risk dirtying our pristine kitchen.
Anyway, someone came through during the weekend and really liked the house. Really. I mean, I like my house, of course - it's mine. 2 of my babies were born here. Lots of memories are here. But for the life of me, I have no idea what this perfect stranger saw here that made him want to offer us full price in a buyer's market. But he did. And we jumped at it. Because money does talk.
Brian is obsessed with tornadoes and earthquakes. Only tornadoes and earthquakes, however - I offered him a book about hurricanes (hey, a disaster is a disaster is a disaster, right?), and he said to me, in all seriousness, "Oh, I don't do hurricanes." Okay.
Anyway, he is particularly obsessed with tornadoes. I came inside from a walk the other day and found him along with several neighborhood kids crouching in our basement. Seems that Brian assessed the weather conditions as "threatening" and advised everyone to take shelter.
And yes, he loves the Weather Channel Online. He can't get enough of it.
Anna is obsessed with the fact that she hates all of us and that we will not let her grow up and do whatever she wants. Because that's what being a grown-up means, according to her addled teenage reasoning. And the only reason that Larry and I don't get to do whatever we want is because we are losers. Because that's what she's going to do when she grows up. Whatever she wants. And she wants us to stop blaming her for everything. I don't know who we are supposed to point the finger at when her bed goes unmade (we've been showing the house, remember?) or when her teacher says she was unprepared for class, but it is most emphatically not her fault. And the dent she put in the dishwasher when she slammed the stool into it in a fit of pique the night before our Open House? That wasn't her fault either. She didn't do it.
Someone's insane here, and I don't think it's me. But what do I know? I'm a loser.
Theo is obsessed with finishing up his 9th-grade work so he can get the heck out of here on June 16th. I don't blame him. He's disappointed that our moving date is prior to his departure; but that's too bad. Someone has to move all this furniture.
David is still obsessed with airplanes. He can't understand why we cannot keep every blessed duct tape-craftstick airplane model he has ever made. But the new house just isn't that big. Sorry.
Rachel has taught herself how to whistle. We are very grateful that she has a new, non-destructive hobby. We encourage it. She also practices "writing" every chance she gets. We stumble across pieces of paper with what can only be described as chicken scratch all over them. Theo thinks she's channeling destructive suggestions from the underworld, a theory I pooh-poohed until we came across a piece of paper with a crude drawing of a toilet (I am not making this up) with a frowny face next to it. We're thinking of sending her up to Grandma and Grandpa until we get this house off our hands.
And Susie - she's obsessed with talking. She imitates every word we say, which is cute unless she witnesses one of Anna's tantrums.
And me - I'm obsessed with getting at least 5 hours of sleep a night. So I am going to bed. Sweet dreams!