A really quick update....(and another rant about AT&T - really; at this point I should just get another provider and another example - or two- of how I am losing my mind)

We aren't homeless any more.

We've found a super-cute one-level townhouse/cluster home (what the hell is the difference?!) to rent for a year.  YAY!

The downside?  NO closet space.

BUT, I can live with it for a year or so until we figure out what our next move is.

In the meantime? I've been busy packing, packing, packing boxes and moving, moving, moving boxes and we are nowhere NEAR being done.  The mover's come on Saturday to move the furniture and, if all goes according to plan, we hope to actually be living there this weekend - one full week ahead of the deadline!  But we shall see.

In the meantime, we have been attempting to change our addresses and move services; always fun.  And AT&T (my VERY favorite people in the WORLD [NOT]) has informed me that they can't POSSIBLY transfer our internet until December 4th.  Which means, of course, that we will be without access for at least four/five days.  Nice.

Funny.  All the OTHER providers didn't have a problem with switching our service on the days we requested.

At any rate, I will be without internet for four or five DAYS - it will be a miracle if I make it out alive.  Most likely, I might find myself camped out in an empty house with nothing but my laptop and router.

I made the customer service lady SWEAR to me that there wouldn't be any issues with the swap.  I think she lied.  Why?  Because with our last two moves there were MAJOR issues.  And I can tell you right now, if I am without internet for that long AND I have issues getting it to work?  Someone will be extremely unhappy.  And that person will most likely be my husband (and new neighbors) as I become increasingly agitated and shouty.

As further evidence that moving is stressful (and/or I'm completely losing my mind) I, apparently, locked us out of our online banking account.  I received a random text the other day - which, flipped me out completely.

Total scam

Which resulted in me trying to log on to our account to make sure that we hadn't been cleaned out - because how in the hell does SunTrust even HAVE my cell number?  And no matter how many times I typed in that user name and password the account failed to open.

So I talked to Hubby - who also couldn't access the account - and had him call the number, only to discover that it was a scam.  But then he, fueled by my hysteria, went to the bank where he informed them forcefully that NO, there was no way we locked ourselves out of the account and that they have been HACKED.

Until...he came home and we were attempting to update the password, to keep our account safe, when he heard me repeating what I was typing into the computer (because that is TOTALLY normal behavior) and informed me that I was putting in the wrong information...which I had been doing all along (which once again proves my point that we all have too many login names and passwords to keep up with...)

DOH!

To further fuel the speculation that I am losing my mind, cue today.  I made my doctor's appointment (as promised here) and went to fulfill my promise.  Dreading it; but determined.

Only to be informed upon arrival that the appointment isn't until tomorrow.

Seriously?

When I sent Hubby a text about it he responded with this gem...

Between this; the "bank fraud;" and the move - I'm beginning to think that maybe he should.

And yeah - I shouldn't title blogs with "a really quick update" because apparently, I am rather ramble-y.  But that - and my insanity - is why you love me...right?

And, finally (yes, really) all that aside to say, I wish you all a very Happy Thanksgiving.  You are all counted among my blessings.  And if you don't hear from me for awhile, it's all AT&T's fault.

A TOTAL jumble...that's the only description I have of my state of mind right now.

"I don't EVER remember any move we've made being THIS chaotic.  Even when we moved across the country (from Texas to North Carolina) WITH a toddler!"

Those may have been the words uttered from my lips to Hubby this evening as we tried to sort out the logistics of our impending move.  The move, which I might add, STILL does not have a forwarding address.  Although, according to the mail we receive on a daily basis, reminds us that very soon, we will no longer be living here - as evidenced by the stack of mail currently on the counter for the new owners.

We have found a place that we have decided we both can live in.  One in which we, probably, won't maim, kill, or otherwise harm each other.  But we are waiting to hear from the rentee (or is that rentor? Definitely the Lessor...maybe.  What the hell do you want from me?  Sure I may work in a legal department, but that doesn't mean I know what I'm talking about!).

With any luck, we are planning to move the weekend immediately following Thanksgiving.  Giving ourselves a full week to finalize the last minute detritus and clean the house for the new owners.  While also insuring that any so-called "helpers" (those that have sworn they would do whatever they could to help us move) are busy with family obligations.

And then there is the whole Thanksgiving Dinner debacle to contend with.  Hubby mentioned something about..."surely, we can have a normal Thanksgiving here..." Which, understandably, freaked me out completely.

Because, no.  We cannot.

Which lead me to declare that we will be having Thanksgiving at a local restaurant - pick your poison because I'm making reservations.

He finally acquiesced.  And my only remaining road-block was Man-Child...the one for whom the word "tradition" was created.  The very same one, after having exactly ONE scavenger hunt for a (large, impossible-to-wrap gift; as a TEENAGER) one Christmas wondered why we didn't have scavenger hunts for every Christmas thereafter...i.e., if you do it ONCE it's a TRADITION around here, apparently.

And when I informed him that Thanksgiving would take place at an impersonal restaurant - rather than in the chaos of our own home?

God, I LOVE that kid!

His response left me with tears in my eyes.

And then?!

*just like THAT*

I was left with MORE tears in my eyes when a friend called (I KNOW! I'm as shocked as you; I actually answered the phone!) to promise her husband (and his truck) into slave labor this weekend by helping us get rid of a bunch of stuff AND invited us to Thanksgiving dinner at her house, because there was NO WAY IN HELL we could have Thanksgiving at a restaurant! (her words, exactly...or almost. Don't get nit-picky.  At this point, my brain can't take nit-picky).

And yeah...that is how rapidly things are happening around here and perfectly explains why my mind is in perpetual yo-yo mode.

Y'all have no idea how much I am ready for this move to be over already.  Seriously.

At least he tries...bless his heart. But seriously, that was helpful HOW?

My husband has had the past week (plus today) off.  And during a discussion of how panicked I am over the fact that we haven't yet found a place to live (we only have NINETEEN and a few odd days left, people!  I'm ALLOWED to freak out) he mentioned that he packed our photo albums today.

All five hundred - give or take...into boxes.

The albums that were ensconced in drawers.  Drawers, that when slid out of the chest could be used as boxes.

Dear God in Heaven! Has this man NEVER moved before?

I smiled and said, "Thank you."  After mentioning that the drawers could have been used as boxes to transport said albums.  What can I say?  I'm panicking.  At least I remembered to say, "thank you."

To his credit, he did make two phone calls today about possible living quarters.  The one responded that we could see the place on Saturday.  The other never responded (what the hell is up with that? Is she SO rolling in commissions that she can ignore requests?  Must be nice).  When he sent me an email telling me that we would be looking at the one place on Saturday, I responded with "My nerves can't take this.  We have NINETEEN days to find a place to live, pack this house and move."

After about 10 minutes he came back with, "Can you be there at 5:30 pm tomorrow?" and became my hero all over again.

UNTIL, during our above mentioned conversation, he said, "You know, I look back over this week off, and I really didn't get all that much done."

Yeah, ya think?

Apparently, it's time for me to start using some of that hoarded vacation time that usually gets used at Christmas to actually get some stuff done.

Yeah, yeah.  I've talked a good game about this being an "organized" move and how if I just did a little every weekend, it wouldn't be stressful.  Well, apparently, I LIED.  Because the past three weekends have been crammed with me driving up and down the mountain to ferry Man-Child back and forth (let's not EVEN begin to get into the fact that Hubby was SUPPOSED to return him yesterday - leaving me home to find a place to live and pack, which did NOT happen, obviously), way the hell out to Raleigh and God only knows where else.  And nothing has been packed - other than those damn photo albums; which, needless to say, didn't NEED to be packed.  AND we still don't know where we will be living.

Oh sure, I could be packing right now, instead of typing this - but who the hell can pack when they are panicked, frustrated, exhausted (this Monday KILLED me, people!  Seriously?  Why do Mondays have to be SO draining?) and irritated?  In the mood I'm in, I'd pack the the damn cat - if we had a one, that is.

*deep breath*gulp*deep breath*

It will all get done and be okay...right?

Of course it will.  As long as I'm the one in charge of making sure it all gets done; apparently.

One outfit; two different comments.

"Well, YOU don't look like a coupon shopper..." were the snide words that greeted me when I exited the grocery store with a smile on my face last week during my lunch hour.

Granted, I was wearing one of my favorite (and most inexpensive, I might add - i.e., the uber-exclusive Tar-jay was the designer) outfits.  But, doggone it, if you can't feel happy when you are wearing a skirt covered in polka-dots, then obviously you need to see someone.

Plus the sun was shining (always makes me happy), the breeze was warm (ditto) and my errands were done - ensuring that I could go straight home after work.  Why wouldn't I be smiling?

Obviously, I had passed a woman who was having a "Bad Day." Because after mulling over her initial statement, along with the barely caught "mumble, mumble...guess you didn't think it could be horrible...mumble, mumble" I have determined that this woman judged a book by it's cover.

This week I wore the exact same outfit (most likely for the last time this season as it's getting far too chilly) and received a far different response.  This time I was approached by another older woman who informed me that I was "looking mighty pretty today."  Obviously, this woman was having a MUCH better day than the other one.

And the result?

Well, obviously it is apparent how much your attitude can affect other people.  The first woman had me stewing over how DARE she judge me?  She had NO idea what I have been through in the past few years.  And how DARE she judge me for appreciating the little things in life - like my very favorite polka-dot skirt and the fabulous weather? And what business is it of hers whether or not I have to use coupons? And just where does she get off in trying to ruin someone else's day?

Her attitude actually had me questioning whether or not I should wear my very favorite skirt the next week.  Yes, her judgment was still affecting me over a week later.

Obviously, I mentally flipped her off and chose the skirt again and was rewarded with kind words this time.

I realize that people have bad days - hell, I've been known to experience one or two or a thousand myself - but generally, I try to keep my bad days to myself and not spread the poison around too much..unless it's directed at poor drivers.  They deserve it.

It's too bad that this isn't everyone's philosophy.  Apparently, some people ascribe to the "share the bitterness" philosophy.  What a shame.

One woman looks at another and takes umbrage that this one takes care in her daily appearance while out and about, so she throws barbs.  Another woman looks at the same person - appreciates what she sees, and takes the time to note her approval.

I know which person I'd rather be.

Confession time

Okay ladies (sorry guys, if you are reading - you might want to click away right now) - before we begin; go read this; I'll wait.  Yes, it's kinda long.  Yes, it will make you cry - but it will also make you laugh.  No matter what; it's worth it. I promise.


Back?  Good.  Now here's the truth.  I USED to be a good girl that followed the rules when it came to my health (here's the proof - just three short years ago).  Well, kinda.  Diet & exercise were always iffy (okay; since it IS confession time - NEVER my top priority) but when it came to scheduling my yearly pap smears and mammograms, I was ON it.

And then it all went haywire when the Center for Disease Control ("CDC") decided that women 40 years old only needed a mammogram every two years - despite the fact that the American Cancer Society has always - and still does - recommended that woman over the age of 40 have one EVERY year.  Once the CDC made that determination my insurance changed and I kinda got screwed - until my company stepped in and reimbursed me.

Then my "doctor" (technically she was a Physicians Assistant) up and decided to leave the practice, which left me high and dry.  The very thought of finding someone else to "take care of business" (i.e., the pap smear) was daunting.  So daunting, that despite asking for recommendations from my friends, I let it go.  And as for the mammogram?  Well, yeah.  That slid too.

Throw on the extended unemployment, my son's Senior year of high school, graduation and ultimately, his leaving for college...

Yeah. "Haywire" doesn't EVEN begin to describe the roller coaster that has been the last three years.  Needless to say, I haven't had a pap smear OR a mammogram since prior to 2010 - yes, I know.  I am appalled at myself.

I've already emailed myself a reminder to call tomorrow and schedule both.  Will you?

It's official....we are now "homeless"...technically.

So, that's it.  We've signed the papers.  The house is sold.

Time for the panic to set in.  Not only have I NOT yet begun to pack one single thing - we have YET to find a place to live.

Which kind of freaked out the paralegal who called last week to see what our forwarding address would be for the paperwork.  When I replied that we didn't have one, she kind of stammered and said okay; that the whole idea of that freaked her out and hoped I would have a great weekend anyway.

Yeah.

We have been to view exactly ONE house so far and I can tell you when I walked in the front door the first thing I wanted to do was cry.  The second thing I wanted to do was to ask the owner how could he, in good faith, be asking what he was asking and why wasn't he ashamed of himself for showing a property in that condition.

I didn't.  But I was sorely tempted on all counts - particularly the last one.  Absolutely NOTHING had been done to that house - other than new carpet in some of the rooms.  Hubby mentioned to me later that all the Sheetrock needed to be replaced and that the ceilings were in bad shape.  That I hadn't noticed, what caught my eye was the extremely dated fixtures, the teeny-tiny closets and the fact that the laundry room was located INSIDE the guest bathroom.  Which, in itself, might not have been a deal breaker except for the fact that there was not a door to separate the two. Why?!  So you could fold laundry while "taking care of business?"

We've scouted out a few other properties; without walking through them - but I have a feeling we may end up in an apartment.  Which is fine for the short-term.  Except we will most likely have to rent a storage unit as well; as there are some pieces of furniture I'm simply not willing to give up.  The husband?  Well, in his mind, we GET RID OF IT ALL and replace it as necessary.  This seems ridiculous to me.  Particularly since some of this furniture is really, really nice and we got it for next to nothing due to once having a friend in the furniture business and replacing it would be impossible on our budget.

So pray for us.  No really.  Somehow we have to get it in gear and start seriously packing and seriously finding a forwarding address and now the clock is ticking....

And I'm off to find a paper bag to breathe into whilst I have a major panic attack.

As a mom; when he says "You should come up..." you really don't have a choice, now do you?

I received the following text message from Man-Child the other day....

An obvious reference to the last time he invited me up for a visit

Which, of course, meant that my plans for today were solidified.

Despite the fact that it would mean not following my own edict that I would pack every weekend between two weekends ago until it was time to move.  (Truth be told, I haven't packed a damn thing since then. Sshhh, it's our secret!)  AND despite the fact that he's been home three out the four weekends in October.  Only, I can't actually verify that - since while he was home I didn't get to spend any quality time with him as his friends and his father monopolized him.

So, of course, when you receive that text you go.

Did we find a corn maze?  To my utter disappointment, no.  We did not.  I have been trying for years to get him to agree to go and he (and his father) have fought me tooth and nail (what they have against corn mazes, I don't know!).  Until this year, when finally Man-Child caved.  And then life got too busy to actually find one until it was too late - I sense that someone had planned for it to happen this way....

Instead we had a nice lunch, did a bit of shopping, caught a movie and one of us got a haircut.

We decided to see Last Vegas.  It was a fun movie.  Although, we were the youngest people in the theater...but that may have been because it was "Game Day" at the college; so I'm assuming everyone else was at the game.  Anything that combines, Robert DeNiro, Michael Douglas, Kevin Kline and Morgan Freeman has to be good; right?  And it was - we both laughed out loud at several scenes.  Although, to be honest, as a mom watching with her son (despite the fact that he is "technically" an adult) there were a few scenes that made me squirm knowing that he was sitting right there!

Prior to the movie, MC was ruminating on getting a haircut and trimming his beard.  I, of course, was enthusiastic about the idea since he was sporting a Wolverine kind of 'do....

This picture does not even BEGIN to show you how crazy his hair/beard has become!

Now, I am the first to say, I don't mind facial hair...look at Hubby up there; he is sporting some facial hair but Man-Child's?  It was OUT OF CONTROL.  So the fact that he was willing to part with some of it?  I was SO jumping on that band wagon.

So when he suggested getting his haircut prior to my leaving, I was all over it.  We went to the closest place - which, to be honest, had me (and MC) a bit nervous since the girl doing the cutting had only been in "the business" for about six months and, as she confessed before going to town on the out of control beard, had never trimmed a beard before.  But obviously, she had aced her cosmetology classes as we were both extremely satisfied with the results...

Knowing my boy, his hair will never again be that neatly combed.

As for the packing?  Well...there's always NEXT weekend...right?  I mean, really, we aren't moving until December...and that is EONS away....