Hello. My name is Michelle. I'm addicted to crime tv shows.
It started with Law and Order. I have a friend who loves "Law and Order". (You know who you are.) I tuned in one night to see what all the fuss was about. That's all it took. One time. I was hooked.
Pretty soon, once a week wasn't enough. So I started to watch "Law and Order: Criminal Intent". Then "Law and Order: Special Victims Unit". Then, God help me, I started watching "CSI". And "CSI Miami". But even that didn't satisfy me.
My addiction became unmanageable. "NYPD Blue", "Boomtown", "Without a Trace", "Cops", "Profiler", "Forensic Files". Once I was so desperate that I watched an episode of "In the Heat of the Night".
I've become the crime show watching equivalent of that skanky girl I went to college with who serial fucked her way through Freshman year. I'm surprised I haven't just started to dry hump the television like a chihuahua in heat. I am out of control.
I have to go now. I think Law and Order is on.
We've hit a little snag with the sale of our house. Our buyer is having some challenges with their loan.
Fortunately, we still haven't dug up St. Joseph. So I'm sure everything will be fine.
Still, this is stressful. I'm not sure what lesson the universe is trying to teach me right now. Between trying to sell this house and my project at work and the on-again-off-again-on-again-off-again nature of both, I may lose my mind entirely.
Deep breath. Soothing thoughts. Calm blue ocean. Om.
The neighbors across the street are growing corn.
They have stalks so large in their back yard that you can see them over the top of the fence. A little weird, I think, because we are very much in suburbia and corn stalks are definitely a bit rural.
What's VERY weird is that they have also planted corn in their front yard flower bed.
Petunia, rose, pansey, corn, rose, corn, petunia, corn, corn, rose.
The hell? What is up with the corn???? If they are growing it to eat, why so much? There are only five people over there and there are eight corn stalks that I can see. Lord knows how many there could be that I can't see. Who needs that much corn?
Maybe there is some cultural or religious meaning to their corn. Maybe we are living across the street from corn cultists. Maybe they make their living by growing and selling corn. Or corn bread. Or corn muffins.
Maybe they are just insane.
I love wireless! I'm sitting on the tailgate of our truck right now, overseeing our "Giant Liquidation Sale - Everything must GO GO GO!!!!"
Sorry, I got carried away.
We're having a moving sale. We've been "open" for 20 minutes and we've made $50. Not bad, says I.
There's something about a moving/yard/garage sale that makes me feel like a trailer dwelling Daisy Duke princess. You cart out all of your discarded old junk and you try to make it look like the Greatest Treasure on Earth. Then you stand around grinning like a fool as if your giant cheese-eating smile will enduce someone to buy the alien salt and pepper shaker set. Every person who walks up the drive is greeted with a cheery "Good morning!" which, after awhile, starts sounding like "Howdy, y'all!"
I know it is nothing personal, but I get so offended when someone wrinkles up their nose at the godawful cologne my husband received for Christmas (the same cologne I hate so much that it is now sitting here with a $5 price sticker on it). And then there are those that drive by and slow down but don't actually stop. What? My stuff isn't even good enough for you to actually get out of your car to LOOK at???? Well, screw you!
I do enjoy the people watching. Some of the ones that have stopped by are super friendly and a couple have been very interesting.
Ok, we haven't sold anything since I started writing this so I need to go work up some buying fever. I'll start referring to everything as "ghetto fabulous" or "vintage" or "retro" or "shabby chic" and it should go quickly.
I was waiting in line at the grocery store today when a dirty and obviously drunk man entered. He stumbled from checkstand to checkstand, looking at magazines and newspapers.
He reached my checkstand and saw the cover story of one of the tabloids. The story indicated that the pope had gone missing. It said he had simply wandered off somewhere and that nobody knew where he was.
The man was VERY upset to hear that the pope was lost. He made a sound that I can only describe as agonized. He was holding his head in his hands and yelling unintelligibly. It would have been quite upsetting had he not been freaking out about an article in a tabloid.
I sort of wanted to tell him that the story wasn't real, but I don't speak gibberish.
So this project I've been working on was placed "indefinitely on hold" today.
I hate the project passionately and I think it is quite possibly the greatest cluster fuck in the history of cluster fucks.
Obviously, there is some part of me that could not care less if the "indefinite" part of this announcement turned into "eternally". But a much bigger part of me is wondering what happens now. This project has been going on for two years and my entire team is dedicated to it. As of today, none of us have any work to do. None. Zilch. Nada damn thing.
For some, this is a very obvious indication that they need to update the old resume. For others it is just another wave to ride out. I think that I am going to be in the group of wave riders. That's good because I need to remain employed while trying to buy a home. The sort of scary part of it is that those of us who remain will be stuck into whatever random jobs need filling without much consideration for what we enjoy (or have some competency) doing.
I've been unhappy at work for awhile. I guess it doesn't matter much if the unhappiness continues for awhile. In the meantime, I'll start looking for work in other departments. When the project was on, we were all locked into our current positions. Now that it is off, I'm a free agent.
We found an apartment to rent for the couple of months between when we have to leave this house and when our new home will be ready.
It seems to be an ok place. Nice and quiet. The price isn't too bad and the neighborhood is safe.
It is very, very, very small. Very. Eensy. I'm pretty sure that the cats are going to be trod upon several times. They have a tendency to try to "herd" us to wherever they want us to be. That's not a problem as long as they have enough room to get out from under our feet should we not be expected to be herded by cats at that particular moment. But in a very small space? No good can come of this. A lot of humor, perhaps. But no good.
A couple of months ago I bought a fertility monitor. It has confirmed what I already knew but didn't want to believe.
I was diagnosed with PCOS a year ago. I guess I had been hoping my doctor was wrong.
I want to have a baby more than anything. For me, the possibility that I might not be able to do that is unacceptable.
I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow and I'll be asking her about treatment options. Pretending that it isn't happening isn't doing me any good.
I was talking to my dad the other day about trying to sell our house. He suggested that we bury a statue of St. Joseph in the front yard.
So, yesterday I went to "The Catholic Store". It isn't the most creative name, I know. I mean, they could have gone with "Saints R Us" or "Jesus Junction" but they stayed with something traditional.
Anyway, I told the clerk at "The Catholic Store" that I needed a statue of St. Joseph and she knew right away that I was selling my house. St. Joseph actually comes in a house selling kit. Who knew?
So, I brought him home and I asked him to help us sell our house. I promised to give him a place of honor in our new home and I promised to tell everyone if he helped us out. Then I stuck him in the ground, head down, and covered him with dirt.
And guess what. There are people in my living room RIGHT NOW making an offer on the house. They are filling out paperwork as I write this entry. And the offer does not suck. And the people? They also do not suck.
St. Joseph ROCKS!
I talked to my nephew, Jack, last night. He's six-years-old and very wise in the ways of the world. Every time we talk, I learn so much.
This time, I learned about the importance of fresh breath.
It seems that Jack has become quite the chick magnet and has somehow accumlated "three or five girlfriends". This despite the fact that he adamantly insists that he hates girls and all things associated with girls (including long hair).
These girls apparently want to kiss him. He takes issue with that. Not because he is entirely too young to be kissing. No. He says that their breath is "icky".
He has two plans of action in mind. One is to always have tic tacs on hand. He will simply offer it to the girl in question and politely instruct her to "not chew it". If that does not solve the icky breath problem, he's pretty sure he can outrun any girl in the land. He assures me he is "really that fast".
I was having some "technical difficulties" with the site but everything seems to be ok now. Apparently, Web hosting services do not like when you fail to update your credit card expiration date.
Everything here has been a bit nutty. My entire existence is tied up in trying to sell our house. It has been two weeks and we've had one offer that does not look like it is going to pan out. We have until August 15th. EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!
We had Open Houses last Saturday and Sunday but the IDIOTS at the ONE paper in this city screwed up and listed our home in an entirely different city. Dumbasses. We're having another one this Sunday. Basically, what this means for me is that I have to stuff my poor cats in their carriers and drive around for four hours. Doesn't that sound like fun?
I'm ashamed to admit this, but I'm sort of taking it personally that nobody has absolutely jumped at the chance to buy my house. I feel bad for my house, too. I wonder if it feels like this is some sort of "internet dating" gone awry. You know, we posted her picture on a bunch of Web sites and talked about how wonderful she is. People set up "dates" to meet the house. And then nobody ever calls back. Why is that?
In the meantime, New House is growing by leaps and bounds but I'm nervous about getting too close to New House in case that whole deal falls through. That's right. I'm afraid to commit.
My dad suggested that we bury a statue of some saint (maybe Jude) upside down in our yard. Apparently it will help us to sell. I am just that desperate at this point so I might be doing that tomorrow.