Which one are you?

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I don’t have tattoos (yet…), but I have done other things that might upset those with, um, delicate sensibilities. Like, oh, I don’t know, swear, perhaps.

I tend to do a lot of that, but I am trying to cut down. Honest!

So I pose the question again based on the above illustration: are you one of the nicest people I’ll ever meet, or are you a church going hypocrite?

Remember, people who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.

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I’m Stef and this is where it’s @ !~

Only me. Only I could do something this dumb!

Moving.

I think I’m going to need hazardous duty pay for this little caper.

First off, I’m beyond exhausted. My brother in law wants all this moving crap to be done.

Yesterday.

I’m too old for this moving shit. This is my 5th move in eight years. I’m fucking tired!

My ankles are swollen up like balloons to the point of pain, but no one cares about that. Just keep packing your stuff.

Then, on Friday, I sliced my finger open by getting it caught in the telescoping handle of some rolling luggage and it bled like no tomorrow! And it hurts! Fortunately, I didn’t need stitches. Just had to suck it up and keep packing.

And at some point in this little adventure, I think I strained a muscle in my shoulder. Gotta suck that up, too.

After this is over, I’m going to sleep for a week.

And as God is my witness, I hate moving!

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I’m Stef and this is where it’s @ !~

Is it over yet?

This damn cold/allergies/whatever-the-hell-I-caught-this-time has been dragging on about 2 weeks too long.

I’m still coughing up stuff…hell, I’m still coughing. I sound like I should be in the asthma ward! And I don’t have asthma!

This is not fun. Dealing with this AND moving?! I’d rather watch grass grow.

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I’m Stef and this is where it’s @ !~

The new place…

What can I say about it?

Um, it’s small.

It’s three bedrooms, two baths, about 1100 square feet of “oh my God, we have too much stuff!”

There is no freaking way all of my Mom’s bedroom furniture is going to fit in my room! So no vanity or both night stands. It looks like one night stand and the bureau will just fit.

I’ll have my dad’s cedar chest (which he built himself in high school some 80+ years ago) at the end of my bed. It will store spare blankets (at least that’s the plan).

Jeff has already “lost his shit” once today. He is one unhappy camper.

I think Pazzo will lose his mind once he gets here. There are so.many.dogs!

Not that dogs will bother him. He’s a rather protective cat.

I just don’t want him to try and go back to the house. Any suggestions? He already has a collar with an ID tag that has his name and Daniel’s cell number on it.

But right now, I’m EXHAUSTED! I’m going take a quick nap.

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I’m Stef and this is where it’s @ !~

Our apartment is ready…

But we are not.

Still so much to do before we can actually move in to the new place. I don’t look forward to this at all.

So this weekend, I will be purging a whole crapload of stuff. Hopefully all I’ll have left are clothes that fit me, furniture, books, music, and all my parents’ stuff that I chose to keep. My goal is to be ready to move by this time next week.

At least we don’t have a real deadline to be out of Mom’s house. The sooner, the better.

So why am I not excited about this move?

Maybe it’s because it means we’re one step closer to selling Mom’s house; or the fact that the new place is across the street from my niece’s high school; or that I’m still living with my two oldest sons more than two years after Mom died; or that I had no say in the matter because it was a done deal before the subject of selling Mom’s house came up.

Though I would have probably chosen the location of the new place myself, I hate being dictated to, i.e., you’re moving here whether you like it or not.

I have to get out of here for a while. I need a vacation in the worst way.

Kinda hard to do without money that’s not earmarked for other things (rent, utilities, food, etc.)

*sigh*

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I’m Stef and this is where it’s @ !~