Thoughts about houses, college life, taxes, FAFSA and hair...it always boils down to the hair

Yeah, I know.  I've not been the best blogger in the world lately.

Would it help if I told you that I "write" blog posts every single day....IN MY MIND?

Yeah, I didn't think so.  But it's true.  They are there, bogged down in the insane recesses of my brain.  Somewhere.

The thing is, I generally have to have a fairly reasonable grasp on sanity in order to sit down and share my thoughts.  And lately?  I have not had any semblance of having a grasp on sanity.  And for the life of me I can't figure out why.

At any rate, here's what's been on my mind lately.

First up, the house.

The husband is once again making noises about selling the house.  He has listed all sorts of valid reasons and justifications.  And I know that he is right.

But here's the thing.  I LOVE this house.  We designed and built this house and it has everything I've ever wanted in a house; except for the fact that it's not exactly IN a neighborhood.

I really don't want to think about packing and moving.  I don't want to deal with the whole "keeping the house perfect" thing that goes along with showing a house.  I don't want to try and figure out where we will live.

I know that selling is the best option.  For one thing it will help get us out from under this mountain of debt we have accrued over the past two and a half years while Hubby was unemployed.  I know that downsizing would mean that I have much less housework to deal with and more money in the checking account, so that I could sneak purchases into my closet more often.  I know all this and still....I don't want to do it. Our plan had been to live here for at least ten years.  It's only been about four.

But for now, he's just talking.  He hasn't stuck the sign in the yard.  So I've got time to make my peace with it.

Next up? Man-Child.

Bless him.  He loves college.  And up until now, has been breezing through.  But this semester he had to take a math class.  He told me the other day that he'd had a test and he wasn't sure how he'd done.  Yesterday he called me to tell me that he'd completely bombed the test.  He was unhappy.  He said, "Mom, the questions and problems looked like they were in Russian."  I know; GOD do I know!  Neither his father or I am mathematically inclined either.  In high school he did okay in math, how I don't know, when he's got our genes coursing through his body.

But despite this being the "easy" math course, he's having a rough go of it.  He has decided that he will look into tutoring to get through it.  I don't think he will be selecting a major that requires a lot of math.  And I don't blame him, not one tiny bit.

The next thing that has been on my mind - taxes and filling out the FAFSA for college next year.

Well, not really.  I had banished those thoughts from my mind.  But Hubby kept reminding me.  Over and over and OVER again.

I hate doing our taxes.  Like a dummy, I persuaded him to use TurboTax last year.  Because it would be SO much cheaper.  I forgot that using TurboTax meant that a computer would be involved.  And since a computer would be involved that meant *I* would be involved.

Doing our taxes now means that I sit at the keyboard and ask the questions while he shuffles through the papers and throws out the occasional, "I don't know!" while running his fingers through his hair and I get frustrated.

But I can mark that one as done.  We did them on Sunday and miraculously I didn't kill him and, obviously, he didn't kill me since I am typing this post.  And we are once again crossing our fingers and praying that we don't get audited all because we don't know what in the hell we are doing; as referenced a few paragraphs previously.

After we were done, I made him take me to dinner because I deserved a reward after spending an afternoon going through that particular hell.

Dinner was an event only because our waitress, bless her heart, came up to us with the check, looking extremely flustered and said, "Here's the thing...oh, my heart is pounding....my manager is going to kill me..."

Apparently, she'd given our check to another table, that had already left.  When we noticed that their check was very similar to what ours would have been we told her not to worry about it; that we would take care of it.  The look of relief on her face was palpable.  It was only after we left that Hubby informed me that MC had told him he would never work at this restaurant because he'd heard from other kids, who have worked there, that the manager is an ass.  And after seeing this poor girl's face, I can believe it.  For the record, I will never eat there again - despite the fact that I like the place, only because I don't want to give someone my money who is terrorizing to his staff.  The staff which is mainly made up of kids.

At any rate yesterday, bright and early, Hubby reminds me about the FAFSA application.  Dear God in heaven...

But I did it.  It's done.  So now, I can well and truly banish them from my brain until next year.

And then there is....my hair.

Yes, if you've been around here for any length of time, then you are well aware of how much time I spend pondering my hair.  The state of it.  The length.  The cut.  All of it is up for pondering.

I've been growing it out, mainly because of finances and also out of curiousity.  And it got to be the longest (and rattiest) it's ever been.  So I called the new lady I've been seeing lately to get a trim.  It turns out she left the establishment (before Thanksgiving - so that gives you an indication of how long it has been since I last cut my hair.  It also gives you an idea of how ratty it was).

Now I had a quandary on my hands.  Take my chances with someone new or suck it up and go back to the guy I used to go to back when we occasionally had money to throw away on frivolous things like haircuts.  Throw into the mix, that I'd mentioned getting a haircut to a friend who immediately informed me that she liked my hair shorter and even told me the way she liked it best.  Funny, I'd been thinking about cutting it off anyway....

So I decided to call my old guy.  Because if I was going to chop it, he was the one to do it.  I called him on Friday.  But it's been so long since I've seen him, I soon discovered that he now doesn't work on Fridays or Mondays and only works every other Saturday.  And, as I'm sure you've guessed, I hit the weekend that he didn't work.  When he called me back, he squeezed me in for today.  I love that guy.

So I went in and he chopped it.  About three to four inches.  Sorry, no before and after pictures because I didn't think about it that's how I roll.  Now keep in mind, I've just lost THREE TO FOUR inches and, if you are a woman, you know that is a LOT of hair to lose.

So I'm feeling all kinds of sassy and pretty - because this guy has the knack of not only cutting your hair to perfection and chatting but also for making you feel like the prettiest woman on earth by the time you leave his chair.  But when I came strolling in the house Hubby looks at me and says, "I thought you were getting a haircut?"

I may have to kill him yet.