We’re still in moving hell. We are suspended in moving hell. I am sweating myself to death in a swamp-cooled house, living out of boxes, and it is Never. Going. To. End.
Ben got accepted to the premier private school here in Tucson, and now we have to figure out if we’re going to qualify for financial aid or if we need to come up with some cash.
We are looking at rentals…and rentals…and more rentals. And laughing at people who are trying to rent for $1400 a month when we could buy a new home for that. And some days I dream that we’ll just get the carpet ripped out of the old house and have the roof fixed and then we’ll just move back in, because I can’t take the stress anymore of being in flux and not know where I am going. I am territorial; I need to stake out my territory. It needs to be circled, its corners peed in, its orifices sniffed. Right now I am a cat without a territory, and I am trying to keep from peeing on the bed in pure frustration.
(For those who are worried, this is pure analogy. I DO NOT actually pee in corners or sniff orifices)
Must go chase neighbor kids out of house…
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