Chaos makes me completely insane. I am not a girl who should ever move. Unfortunately, I’m a bit late on this epiphany. Because I’m sitting in the middle of complete craziness. I don’t know how I find the inner calmness to blog. I just don’t.
I keep yelling out things to the universe like…
“Who put the knives next to the kid straws in this kitchen drawer?!”
“Why did we store our living room rug folded in half for a year which has resulted in a permanent hilly, puckered effect!?”
“Why the hell is there water dripping from our dining room ceiling?!”
On our second night in the new house, as we gave the girls a bath, we noticed that the tub water was raining down below into our dining room. Obviously, I’m pretty new at this home ownership thing but I don’t remember anyone mentioning that perk at the house inspection.
Baths were temporarily suspended until we could arrange for a plumber to get here ASAP. And from what I’ve gleaned from the plumbing world, “ASAP” means in the next day or so. But hopefully, we now have the situation under control.
Lucky for me, I married an optimist and he, of course, found the small joy in this whole moving process.
“I am so excited to learn that you are a hoarder.”
“What are you talking about? I throw out and recycle everything,” I responded. And I do. Under my dictatorial rules of organization and order, anything left anywhere for more than 20 minutes in our home can be disposed of immediately.
“You hoard tea.”
“I do not. I don’t even drink tea.”
“Oh really? You have pregnancy tea. You have wellness tea. Cinnamon apple tea, six kinds of green tea, English tea, black tea, evening tea, morning tea, chamomile tea, licorice tea, I hate moving tea, you have it all. You are a hoarder of tea,” he said triumphantly.
“Well, I used to drink tea. And when you have guests, it’s just common courtesy to offer them a nice cup of tea.”
My husband obviously put those knives next to the kid straws and is now trying to distract me with his preposterous hoarder theories.
Meanwhile, Las Vegas is currently taking bets on who will be the first (my husband or I) to knock over our new white picket fence with our minivan.
Right now, given my recent fender bender, the Vegas odds are 2 to 1 in favor of me. Happy betting.