I don’t know where the days went. I’m so behind on the 40 Days of Writing project that I am just going to have to wrap it all up here. I think it’s day 40. Or maybe yesterday was Day 40?
The past two weeks have been a giant blur of packing, cleaning, moving, and manual labor. I am physically exhausted and living in house full of boxes. I got up at 4am on Monday morning and put the second coat of paint on the bathroom walls. I couldn’t sleep thinking of so much I still have left to do. Mike found me on a ladder in a pink babydoll and old sneakers. I wouldn’t let him take my picture.
I have no idea where anything is. Last night I hunted for a bar of soap for 15 minutes. I opened the linen closet three times before Mike opened it a fourth time and discovered the soap. He kindly said, “A fresh pair of eyes were needed.” Because I’m saving my vacation days for a real vacation, there has been no time to unpack and get settled because I have to go to work every day. I manage to do a little bit each evening, but not enough to make a real dent because up until last night, there was still stuff to do at our old places when we got off work.
For the two people who read my blog that don’t know me personally, I moved out of my own place, as did my boyfriend, and we moved into a house together. In tow with him are two little boys, ages 4 (Liam) and 2 (Finn), who will be with us 50% of the time.
The big move was this past weekend and with the boys returning to us Sunday night, the first order of business was to get their new bunk beds set up. Success! They loved their new room and slept through the night. Liam took the top bunk and Finn took the bottom, which is the way we thought it should go, but last night (they were with Mom on Monday and Tuesday nights) they switched places. We have no idea why. There wasn’t even any sort of argument between them about who gets which bed so apparently they had a lengthy discussion without us knowing.
Food is a problem. We’ve only shopped for essentials, meaning food for the boys and for the cat. I’ve managed to eat a pretty good lunch at work each day, but dinner is another matter. On Monday night, Mike and I were both at our old places. I ate a dill pickle right before I put the jar in a box and I think Mike managed a slice of bread with peanut butter. On Tuesday I had chocolate and wine for dinner. I don’t know what he ate. Oh, wait. I remember. A $3 burrito from somewhere. Last night Mike went with Sarah in her truck to move the very last of his things from his apartment. Before he left, he fixed the boys a spinach and cheese quesadilla. I said to Liam, “you aren’t going to eat all three of those, are you?” He’s a good sharer.
Sex is a problem, too. Wait. Sex is not a problem. Having sex has been a problem. It’s been a week! No, eight days! Or is it nine? Who’s counting?! Mike’s counting. We aren’t worried, that’s for sure. We are just too damn tired. We tried last night. We even got the boys to sleep at a reasonable hour, but then we fell asleep mid-kiss. Tonight! No kids! No previous dwellings to finish! Yeah, tonight! Maybe.
I feel like I look like hell, though. I look tired. When I was getting into bed on Tuesday night, Mike told me I was beautiful. I rolled my eyes. I always try to take a compliment, but I wasn’t feeling very beautiful. I haven’t spent much time on me. I managed to clip my fingernails that night because they drive me nuts when they are too long, but there is still paint underneath them. My hair needs a good conditioning and a cut. The ends are starting to resemble a Brillo pad. I put my hair in a french braid this morning to hide the frizz. French braids make me feel Mormon (no offense). I even said, “keep sweet,” to a co-worker.
Ah well, I’m tired, but happy. Mike is happy, the boys are happy, and Maeby is happy. We will find a place for everything soon enough. Just like these little guys did in our bathtub.