I’m truly fucking overwhelmed.
let me give this disclaimer:  I know how truly lucky I am to have the luxury of whining about my “marble floors.”

Tomorrow the movers come.  I need to be packing right now and I just can’t seem to go full force.  I’m taking this time out to vent so that maybe I’ll be able to put my nose to the grindstone without all this crap in my head.

Last week I couldn’t pack because I was catching up from being in San Diego.  As much as I wanted to go, it was also a have-to, as my sister needed me to show some interest in her (she didn’t say, I just know).  So I have this contract job, grading papers…  I had to make up that time when I got back.  I’m just TODAY caught up.  I had my dad here over the weekend helping me build a loft in the girls’ bedroom so that their things will actually FIT in it.  I didn’t get time to paint it (because of paper grading).  My dad couldn’t stay to help pack because he needed to get back to his own busy life.  My mother was in San Diego this weekend. 

My mother is graciously paying to have my furniture moved.  I really appreciate that.  She would like me to move the small things and boxes myself.  First, I’ve got nothing packed.  Second, when I do (and that’s bad enough, when will I do it?) I have to move it all in my minivan.  Now mind you, I have my own three kids, AND a friend’s kindergaartner.  Fuck.  Me.  And gas is 2.25 a gallon. 

I’ve been up till 1am every night grading.  I get up at 6:30 and start dealing with feeding/clothing/taking kids-to-school, picking up and dropping off my work, being somewhere for something, picking up another child, feeding……..picking up children at 45 minutes intervals where you can’t fit other things in between.

My mother assumes someone is going to help me.  I think everyone assumes that.  Who?  My friends have their own things they have to do, and frankly… if they did help, I’m so tired and ineffectual that I wouldn’t have a clue how to tell them what to do!  I don’t even know where to start myself.

In addition to all MY things are my grandmother’s.  There will still be a household full of stuff with mine out.  I think my mother wants me to take it with me.  ??  Also, the woman buying this place wants to move in right away.  How do I get all my gramma’s crap out AND clean?  I have to leave for Seattle Friday.  I am so fucked.

And I’m just so fucking tired and sad!  Honestly, this is part of why I stayed in a marriage with an asshole.  It wasn’t about “oh I couldn’t afford to leave”  or whathaveyou.  Aside from the obvious, you know, committment and love, there’s the knowlege that life is just really fucking hard and sometimes even a little help is enough to get you through.

Honestly, I’m not looking for pity.  I’ll get through this, of course I will.  There’s nothing anyone can do to help me.  It’s just hard.  I guess I just needed to cry about it so I can get on with it.

Off to cart kids that don’t want to go, to go get my son. 

There’s so much to talk about.  Where DOES one start?  To begin with, I haven’t decided if I want to inform you about all the great (and not so great) stuff that has happened to me in the last week, or if I just want to babble on about what’s on my mind.  It’s all so disjointed anyway, all of it, that it’s hard to narrow down.  Well, it looks like I’m going with babble…

I got back from Sandy Eggo late on Monday night.  Since then I’ve been trying to catch up on my grading, laundry, the housework, and other such boring shite.  My car needs to be serviced, oh, about six months ago, so what’s a few more days?  I move next week so there are some things there that are pressing, timewise.  I have most of the utilites taken care of, well, the talking on the phone part… and the appliances are supposed to be delivered the day before the move.  We shall see.  I’m really not anxious about it, but honestly, we all know something will go wrong and I’m just interested in finding out what it will be!

The most likely culprit is the weekend project:  building a loft in the girls’ bedroom.  My dad is supposed to drive over and help me.  He’s a retired contractor (among other things… he worked for HEW, the U of ND, restored antiques, past head of security for the FDA) so it’s not the work I’m worried about, it’s whether or not he’ll actually be able to make it.  He’s spent the last five (?  I think) years building and maintaining a youth center.  He’s just recently decided to sell it, either to the Y or the schools, but still has banquet etc. duty until that happens.

Okay, so that needs to get built and painted.  I also need to put a cat door in.  If he doesn’t come I’ll need to buy tools (a drill, a reciprocating saw) but I should probably do that anyway.  I would just have to wait on the big project.  Also, I want to get some of those big garage shelving units bought and set up.  I guess I could do that on my own.

I’m having trouble getting someone to do my irrigation lines.  It’s a pain in the butt.  I know everyone’s busy, but could you call me back to tell me when you can talk to me?  I had somebody come out to hear what I wanted and measure and that was THREE weeks ago!  I can’t get him to return my calls!

I hate packing and I won’t be doing it till the last minute.  I’m not sure how I’m going to fit working into all this.

Oh yeah, and BabyJane has the chicken pops (pox).

yeah.  I got nothin’

I was out with that damned sasser worm, but I took the computer to the shop (since I know little to nothing about this sort of thing) and it was fine.  It wasn’t even all that expensive.

Emma has the chicken pox.

I played golf for the first time in fifteen or so years, and I wasn’t any worse than the last time I played.  Take that however you like.

We did a drive-in movie convoy Friday night.  It was cool.  Dylan invited Sean and Scott.  I invited Jane and Emma (natch), and Sean’s dad came along too.  We put all the kids in my van and Pete drove solo (I made everyone do this so we could save the five bucks… HEY, I could’ve made them all get in the trunk ala Cheech and Chong).  Then the boys got in Pete’s durango and the rest of us sat in the van.  Unfortunately we went to Scooby Doo 2, and while it featured one of my Hollywood boyfriends, all our brains may be permanently damaged.  The horror…  That Julia Styles princess movie wasn’t much better.  Still, a drive-in movie is a drive-in movie, which is much more enjoyable than the chicken pox which arrived the next morning.

NEXT on a Very Special Satori:  a trip to San Diego!