Sleepys on the Move

I believe I bemoaned the hubby's distaste for traffic and thus his desire to move far, far away in an attempt to never sit in it again.

When I did that, I probably mentioned that he has a unicorn job and I have serious qualms about him leaving it, because basically everyone there thinks he hung the moon.

Well. 

On a lark, I sent a real estate listing for nearish to here, but more in the country (I think it had 6 acres? Maybe 8.) to him one day. And he was like, ooh.

So I said, well let's go look at it.

So we dropped eldest off at youth group last Wednesday and then drove out to give it the ol drive by peep. And he was so enamored of it that he wanted to see inside.

So I said, fill out the little form on the realtor app listing and let's see if we can do so.

Not ten second after hitting submit, his phone rang with a very eager realtor who would love to show us the house, when would work for us?

So we went and looked on Friday and...it was not amazing inside. The main floor was fabulous. But the upstairs and basement were chopped up in such a way that all the rooms felt small and useless. It had a pool (yay!) but otherwise hit firmly on the meh scale. For the price, meh was not going to cut it.

Well, relator dude was like "What if I sent you listings and we could look around some more?"

And we were like, "Sure. And also Beth found these builders and they have a model we're going to go look at it."

And he said, "Mind if I tag along to see what you like?"

I mean, why not? I don't want listings that don't work. So we did. And he did. And the model was amazing. Like everywhere you looked it was as if the angel choir sang and little bunnies hopped about pooping rainbows.

Of course, after some chatting, when all was said and done, despite the listing implying it'd be in our price range, it was not. SO.

But hey, realtor dude felt like he got an idea of what we'd be interested in and all was good and we went home and I cried a little because I have expensive taste and now hubby was doubling down that we could get everything I wanted if we left the area.

Saturday, we had a rash of listings (on our own personal website portal, fancy!) to browse. I, being picky, was able to eliminate most of them (because I love our house currently and am not moving just for the sake of moving. It has to be worth my while.) But there were three that were going to be open that looked promising enough that it was worth it to throw everyone in the car and go spend a Saturday driving about. And, since we were out, we did the sneaky ol driveby on two others.

Of the five, only one was good. And it wasn't just good, it was fantastic. (It was also more than I wanted to spend, but still within our budget, albeit at the tippy top.) But I wasn't ready to commit. And there were a ton of peeps at the open house. So hubby was like, "Not making a decision is making a decision." And I was like, "I'm not impulse buying a house."

So we talked it to death Saturday night. All day Sunday. Most of Monday via text. Because it was still for sale on Monday (and the way the market is around here that felt somewhat miraculous.) So when hubs was home, I said, "See if realtor dude can meet us there and we could go through it again without it being an open house." 

He could. We did.

We made an offer.

That was about 8pm.

Realtor dude called at 10 to say they'd accepted it.

And just like that, life was thrown into chaos because WE ARE NOT READY TO SELL THIS HOUSE. 

So not ready.

And thus the next little bit of our lives will be frantically trying to remedy that situation. RealtorDude would like to get it listed before Memorial Day.

Gulp.

On May the Fourth Curmudgeons

Here in Sleepy land, we are not shy about our love for all things Star Wars.

Ewoks? Yup.

Baby Yoda? Double yup.

Rogue One? Yup, yup, yup.

The Last Jedi? Only thing that would've made it better was Kylo and Rey ending up married and saving the galaxy together.

Mandalorian, Book of Boba Fett, Obi Wan coming soon? If it's Star Wars? Bring it. We'll love it.

This is the first year that I've noticed the curmudgeons coming out of the woodwork to pooh pooh the celebratory memes. Before, you might get an eye roll, but that's it.

For us? We're all decked out in Star Wars shirts for our celebratory day and no one's going to tell me it's wrong.

So May the 4th be with you.

It's May

The start of May sets off an unending repetition of the song from Camelot (It's May! It's May! The lusty month of May!) for the first several days. I consider that somewhat better than the incessant Justin Timberlake memes one sees everywhere else.

I wonder if he hates them as much as I do.

Hubby has taken great joy in walking around and saying, "I can't believe we're 1/4 of the way through the year!" And...he needs to stop. Because yes, tempus fugit and all that, but can we stop sounding like we're creaky octogenarians for a few minutes?

There may be semi-reprieve on the moving front. He spoke to his boss (also the owner of the company) about his frustration with traffic that means we are going to look around and boss said, "Do you still want to work for me? Because we'll figure that out." And then he trotted out a plan that would allow more working from home with maybe one or two days in the office for lab work that would, on paper at least, appease the beast lodged in hubby's head.

It's a relief. But also crazy-making as I just...don't deal well with change. I had finally started to wrap my head around the inevitability and now it's not inevitable? Or less inevitable? I am glad, for sure. But also not writing it off, because the idea does keep rearing its ugly head, so I guess we'll see what we see.

Parts of a potential move are pleasant in my mind - like having Dad on the property with us. As much as I appreciate that he's fine living alone and yes, he's only 15 minutes away, he'll be 80 in July and he's a type 1 diabetic and there are good reason to have him just a stone's throw away rather than a drive that can range from 10-25 minutes depending. He might beg to differ (he does, in fact, beg to differ) but peace of mind is a nice thing.

I guess we'll see.

Knees and Toes

Saw the orthopedic today.

He agrees that youngest has very flat feet. But he's of the opinion that unless and until there is pain associated with walking, that the best course of action is nothing. He says orthotics are fine but maybe not super necessary. And that probably the tripping will be either grown out of or conquered when ADHD is more under control.

I'm on the fence about just taking it and calling it a day.

On the one hand, I don't need anything more to worry about and it's not like I want him to need surgery or anything.

On the other, he falls basically any time he tries to run.

To be fair though, he'll be running along and get distracted and that is when he falls. So yeah. It could be the ADHD. 

For now, we're gonna roll with doing nothing. But I'm going to keep a closer eye and ask about pain now and then (although he's not one to be stoic so I really do think he'd speak up if he hurt.)

So. All's well that ends well?

Ish.

Shoes, falling from the sky

Y'all.

First up, Easter dinner was fine. There was a whole thing in picking up the dinner box from Cracker Barrel, but they actually sent a very nice apology email with a gift card, so I won't belabor that other than to say that Saturday afternoon I was ready to jump off a very high cliff and call it a day.

Anyway.

We went back to the podiatrist yesterday for a follow up on youngest's custom orthotics. Because why shouldn't he be the one with the majority of the problems? Anyway, they help but they're not the magic bullet we were all hoping they'd be. Doctor looked, watched him walk, hmmed quietly, and loaded us up with referrals to pediatric orthopedist and physical therapy.

Yay.

Or something.

He (doctor) feels the problem is going to be in the ankle, knee, or hip joint. So it's a bigger issue than what he can help with.

Of course, when I made the appointment with the recommended orthopedic they said he's a foot and ankle guy and...I mean I guess he can also look at the whole leg or will talk to someone who can. It's a big practice, so surely I'm not hosing us? (Insert hysterical laughter here. You and I both know if there's a way for this to go wrong, I'm going to find it.)

Hubby is on his "we need to move" kick again. This time with a vengeance. Like maybe it'll actually happen. Of course no one knows where we need to move. We now have a list of options and he's supposed to look at the sorts of jobs available in said locations. But to say I am unenthused about this possibility is to understate the issue mightily. 

Dad will have to move with us. Dad, who lives in a massive home full of things. Things that need not be moved with us. In a perfect world, we'll find a home that has an on-property but separate (attached by a breezeway even better) in law cottage. Or we'll end up having to build something like that. Which is fine, I'm open to that. But it means moving takes on strains of "where do we want to retire" and...I've got nothing.

In all of this, I'm making plans to enroll eldest in an online homeschool academy for high school. It seems like the best choice right now. And so when I was getting things set up yesterday and claiming his account, etc. I set a password, got distracted by sixteen different things, and closed the password safe without saving it. So I had to call their tech support like a moron and explain what I did. Thankfully, they appear used to frazzled moms and just kindly reset it without laughing while I was on the phone. I'm sure I was someone's dinnertime story though.

I am woefully behind--to the tune of if I don't get on the ball soon I'll miss my deadlines behind--on my current book. It is not writing itself, which is frustrating. I'll live, but it's just one more annoyance, because it adds this level of "you should be writing" to every moment I take for myself to try and breathe out stress.

So. There we are. If you're the praying sort, prayers for sanity and peace are greatly appreciated. Because I don't know if I'm coming or going right now.

Celebrating Easter

As the years have gone by, and the boys have developed their own personal sense of style -- coupled with the seeming great need to fight me on just about anything, Easter has taken a bit of a turn.

I used to go all out looking for cute, dressy outfits for them to wear. They'd coordinate (rarely truly match) and hubby and I would dress up and we'd get a snazzy family photo.

And then the whining started about itchy collars and uncomfortable pants and so on and so forth and... I gave up.

I think we hit our all time low in 2020, when Easter happened in the middle of the original "two weeks to flatten the curve" madness and everyone was only doing church online less Der Kommisar come after you. That year, we watched Easter on the couch in jammies. 

But Easter at our church has always been a bit of a grumble for me, anyway, because they try to make it one big happy service instead of our usual 4 (one Saturday, 3 on Sunday). From the standpoint of the pastor wanting it to be a little easier, I get it. On the flip side, moving Easter service to the auditorium or gym of the nearby high school makes it entirely meh.

And then, even worse, last year and now this, we haven't even bothered with the high school. It's outside on the lawn in front of the building.

Bring Your Own Camping Chair. 

I'm not going to try to look fancy when I have to sit on a sloping hill (leaning backwards, of course) in a camping chair. Just no.

Also, as much as they think they've figured out making the audio system work so everyone can hear, they have not.

It's all just awful. And I hate it. And I hate that I hate it. 

But I also don't want to go visit another church just for Easter. 

So mostly I'm grumpy and out of sorts and have reached new lows of not caring in the slightest about any of this. To the point that I ordered our Easter dinner from Cracker Barrel and will go pick it up this afternoon so I can toss it in the oven tomorrow and just be done.

Because everyone's going to complain about it anyway, so why bother.

Chicka-dee-dee-dee

There is an insanely loud chickadee trumpeting his mating call in our backyard (at least I'm assuming he's in our backyard given how clearly I can hear him.)

Normally, I enjoy the various and varied birdsong we get (I attribute it mostly to the fact that we have feeders out and so the birds congregate in the nearby to get at our seed). But man, I'm ready to sign this guy up for tinder if it'll get him to stop already.

Maybe I'm just in a grumpy mood. It's entirely possible.