Oh. So much to do.
And yet…I’ve been spending hours just reading blogs, obsessively cleaning the bathroom (a losing battle with a potty-training male), wandering out back to smoke furtive Camel Lights during naptime (judging me yet?), and staring vacantly at my rapidly emptying house, rendered increasingly barren by the generous shopping habits of friends and acquaintances. Did you know you can sell pretty much anything on Facebook? Apparently.
I can’t believe we’re doing this. And yet, if feels so much like a direct invitation from the Lord, that we barely hesitated to give our affirmative answer.
Which was comforting when I was wiring $400 via Paypal to an old man named Giuseppe over lunch today, crossing my fingers that 33 days in an internet vacation rental would be sufficient time to find a ‘real’ apartment when we get there in January.
So here we sit, 1 day till Thanksgiving, 30 days till my 30th birthday, 34 days until Christmas, and 42 days until we leave the country…for good. For a while, at least. Oh, it’s also our 3rd wedding anniversary. Today. I should totally cook dinner tonight to commemorate it.
Pardon me, I have to step outside for a moment. Ahem.
Did I mention that it is 67 degrees here in Denver on this Thanksgiving Eve? And that ‘Thanksgiving Eve’ is now apparently a thing? And that Costco was off the hizzy this morning and people already had that crazed, ‘gotta snap up that last faux-cashmere bathmat’ gleam in their eyes while wielding their semi-carts?
I should also mention that I saw an Obama logo on a car today – no words, just the weird sun rising symbol thing – and thought to myself ‘that looks like the Eye of Sauron.’ Then I called my sister to tell her about it, and she said ‘are you going to write a blog post about it?’
Or maybe not. Sorry for the hot mess that this is. You should see my kitchen right now. You should see my stretched out, stained and ill-fitting maternity spanx-y cami right now. You should see the new James Bond movie this weekend, I’ve heard. You should send a babysitter over our way so I can see it, too.
Now if you will excuse me, I am going to be cheersing it up in about 9 minutes, when it will officially be 5’clock on the East Coast. Anyone care to join me for a virtual IPA and a beleaguered sigh over long-fought naptime battles?
I’ll be back tomorrow with fewer words, more pictures, and lots of thrift store treasures on dem hips so Grace can see me in big girl clothes for the festive occasion. You’re welcome, in advance.