I'm still here!

Wow, it's been too long since I posted. I've had a case of the lazies a lot going on recently, I guess. Right now I've been focusing on spending time with The Hubby rather than anything else. I haven't even spent time with my family since the end of January, but I'll finally be seeing them tomorrow. With this shift, I get up, go to work, get off at around 9 pm, and then had been staying up until about 1 am. A lot of progress is being made on the house; we have a new front door, complete with a bit of a porch, and drywall up and plywood down in the living room. We need to work on the ceiling some, including some new ceiling fans, but after that it should go pretty quick. Plastering, sanding, and getting the floor installed, slap a coat of paint on the walls and it's done! Well, minus furniture... We're revisiting the idea of bean bags as the sole furnishings in the room, considering our income at the moment.

I've also been sick as a dog this past week, and missed a day-and-a-half of work, so next week's check is going to be pretty damn slim. Ah well.

There are just so many changes happening in my life right now, or changes that I know are about to happen, I'm just walking around kind of shell-shocked these days. This year is already going by so fast, I can't believe it's almost the last week of March. That means it's almost April, which is a month away from Josh leaving for boot camp, which for me is the deadline for the house to be finished. I don't want people traipsing through my house without him here, and I'm pretty worried that if he leaves before it's done the work is going to stop anyway, and then we'll either be scrambling to finish it to sell it or having to sell it unfinished. I don't want us to have to do that... We need to make as much money from the sale of this house as possible. Granted, it's not going to fetch us much money, but all I want is enough to pay off our debt. I want as clean of a slate as possible when we go off in this new direction.

Anyway, not much to this post, I just wanted to touch base and let you know that I'm still alive and kickin'!

Buffalo!

The majestic buffalo. (Or bison, depending on how particular you are.)

Covered in plaster, because he's our rebuild mascot.

This particular little sculpture was supposed to be for luck. The In-Laws had given it to The Hubby when he first got out on his own. It's a hefty old thing, and for the longest time it had been sitting on a shelf on the wall behind our couch, along with a few pictures and some other knick-knacks we possessed. Honestly we're not big on "decorating," so anything like that was of sentimental value and had been given to us from someone we cared about. Although we're still working on the house, any shelves we do put in will be purely for necessities, not looks. Nail holes in the wall would just be something to patch up later when we move, so we're not even worrying about it.

But back to the story, this particular buffalo was meant to be lucky, and I never ever liked it. I was constantly trying to get The Hubby to part with it, to no avail. It was awkward, and heavy, probably 5 pounds, and was always placed in an inconvenient spot. But the spot above the couch was the worst idea ever, in my opinion.

See, the wonder-kitties were always perched on that particular shelf. They'd jump from the windowsill onto the back of the couch onto the shelf then usually down onto one of our surprised shoulders. (Then down onto the stomach or lap then down to the floor, all to be repeated later, but I digress.) But they loved the hell out of that shelf, and trying to get them down always resulted in our pain, so we gave up. This is why I hated the buffalo's location.

Still, it surprised me when it happened. I was sitting on the couch next to The Hubby, watching TV, when one of the kitties jumped up there and while trying to slink behind the buffalo, managed to knock it off the shelf and onto my poor, unsuspecting shoulder. Unsurprisingly, it hurt like hell. That little bastard was heavy, and the edges that aren't rough were sharp, especially around the base. At first The Hubby laughed it off, until he realized I was being quiet because I was holding back tears. It hurt really bad, and it terrified me how close it had been to hitting my head instead of my shoulder. I had a cut and a giant bruise on my shoulder for days, so I wasn't seeing the humor in the situation yet.

Then I did. I mean, what's not amusing about it? I'm just sitting there minding my own business, and suddenly *buffalo!* It became the moment I thought about every time something inexplicable and ridiculous happened. Those moments where you just want to ask the universe "WHY?!", I could shrug off with "Because *buffalo*." It even became a running joke with a friend at work... Anytime things went insane, we'd just look at each other, shake our heads, then shrug our shoulders and say in a resigned voice, "Buffalo!"

Things don't have to make sense. If I can get mauled by a buffalo in my own living room, anything can happen. Because buffalo.

We still have him, by the way. He survived the flood and now I can't bear to part with him. He may be vicious, but he's a survivor, dammit, just like we are.

Have you missed me?

Hello, Blog, it's me. It's been a while, and a funny thing happens when I ignore the call of blogging for a while. The amount of things I could write about continues to grow, so I keep putting it off because I don't know where I should start anymore.

I mentioned already that we have moved back into our house. We've been functioning fairly well without any kitchen appliances other than our fridge and a microwave, but we've also been strongly feeling that we're spinning our wheels. I had been working days and The Hubby had been working second shift, so there wasn't a lot of time being devoted to working on the house. Then I started working second shift too, but still. Weekends were focused on relaxing and spending time together, because we had absolutely zero energy for anything else. However, this meant we'd been spending all this time without moving any closer to our goal of finishing the house. So there went Plan A: doing the work on the weekends. We don't have much time left before The Hubby leaves for boot camp, so it's been time to kick Plan B into place: The Hubby became a Househubby.

But don't go thinking he's just spending all his time loafing around and watching the complete Dragon Ball Z series on DVD since he quit his job. I've gotta hand it to him--he's been kicking ass and handling shit like a BAMF, running errands and taking care of business while I'm at work. I'm pretty sure the only reason the whole house isn't already finished is because it was raining off and on all last week. Not anything major, but enough to be irritating and prevent them from hauling too much in the back of the truck. One of the bigger tasks we have to accomplish is installing a new front door in a place where there wasn't one already. So again, the rain and chilly weather kind of puts a damper on things like that. But a wall in the living room is sporting new drywall, we now have a cabinet for the kitchen sink, the rest of the lower kitchen cabinets have been ordered, we have a counter top, and this week we'll finally have a kitchen stove. Yay!

I think that at this rate *hopefully* it could be finished within the next couple of weeks. I just want for it to be done early enough that The Hubby can enjoy the amazing work he's put into it before he has to leave. I wish we had had the means to do all this sooner, without the "means" having come as a result of a devastating flood. I'm so happy with the way it's turning out, but at the same time I know that we'll be selling it soon.

Looking back on 2011.

So it's getting disgustingly close to the end of the 2011, and although I'm giving 2012 the stink-eye it's a glare that is tempered with a tiny glint of hope. Next year will bring a lot of "firsts" for me, mostly because of The Hubby's new and exciting career choice. And although it's terrifying and more than a little stressful to be facing all these changes, I truly am excited. Now it's time for me to put up or shut up... Am I the super-tough, badass, independent babe I claim to be? Or am I simply the "baby ox" I am jokingly referred to as ("I'm strong as an ox!" "Pssh, maybe a baby ox, probably a fetal ox.")? We're about to find out in 2012, y'all!

Like many others more talented than myself, I thought I'd figure out my "Best Of" blog posts this year. Here goes.

In January I talked one of my favorite people, a mother of a gorgeous little girl, into starting up a blog. Her love for her daughter and for a more researched brand of motherhood spoke to me, even though I have no children myself. (The furry four-legged kind don't count in this situation.) I thought she would be well-served to take her passion onto a more open forum than Facebook, and hoped she'd be able to inspire others as she'd inspired me. Unfortunately she hasn't posted much beyond those first couple posts, but hey--they rocked! She's got a lot on her plate right now, but my fingers are crossed that one day she'll work around to it and put that passion out there for a wider audience.

In February I decided to stake my own claim in a tiny slice of the blogosphere, although my start was less than impressive. A few days later, though, I finally got around to why I needed to start blogging. I needed something to help me work out all the changes in my life, and to chronicle my "journey" back to (hopefully) some semblance of sanity and confidence.

In March, I was astounded at the pages Google Reader suggested I visit... at least until I visited them. I profusely cursed St. Patrick's Day, and shook my head in amazement at a couple awesome but poorly-thought-out purchases. I seemed to be off to a pretty good start. The posts weren't coming daily, or even regularly for that matter, but I was doing pretty well at not letting it sit un-updated for long.

In April I continued on my awesome-ish posting streak, sharing a horrible Mean Woman Week story (but also a poem!), gave my few readers a taste of my personal brand of depression, introduced Teh Kittehs, and established a possible menu for the imaginary restaurant that I will never start because I have no interest in owning a restaurant or in cooking.

Then tragedy struck. My home was damaged in a horrible flash flood, leading to about a week solid of nothing but chaos. It was close to the end of the month, and I didn't get the chance to post for a while, so...

May's posts started out with a hell of a bang. I had no idea what was going to happen next, all I knew was that suddenly we were essentially homeless.  There was very little posting that month, because there was a whole lot of stress, but I did manage to sneak in a post that was fun to write.

June only brought a couple of posts, but one of them is one of my absolute favorite posts (of mine, anyway), because I firmly believe that you should treat people how you want to be treated. Being a dick ultimately gets you nowhere, and you'll most likely be angry the majority of your life if you keep putting that out into the world. I'm a rant-er, and this was prime rant material, although I personally think that it has a positive message!!

July brought another one of my thoughtful posts, where I express my amazement that people continue to believe in my ability to do anything, ever. Fake it 'til you make it is damn right.

August didn't bring a lot of posts, because it was kind of crazy and I wasn't feeling so chipper. I'll just post those links here without a lot of description (there were only three), because they all meant something different to me. Which do you like best, if any?

• The power of "no."
• My inner emo-kid emerges.
• Scratch that.

About halfway through September I finally started picking up steam again, post-wise, but there were only a couple of gems in there... I finally introduced myself using my actual name rather than using "The ZB," which is a small step toward being more comfortable with blogging but is a step nonetheless. I also told the nail-biting and hilarious "tail" of our juggabuttin' kitty getting stuck in the attic. That was one of the high points of my year, once I regained the ability to breathe and laugh.

In October we mourned the loss of a most fabulous fowl, whose side-of-the-road strut will not soon be forgotten. I also mourned the loss of my original Kindle, but soon My Dear Replacement Kindle took its place of permanent attachment to my hands.

In November I broke the news of The Hubby's enlistment, and later I wrote about my feeling stuck in limbo while waiting for everything in my life to come together.

December has been another crazy month. I've just left my retail job to go back to the factory job, albeit at a higher pay rate and in a position without a time limit. Yay! But there's been some bumps along the way, some super busy days and some super crazy days, and even an exhausted but somewhat desperate letter to Santa.

This has truly been a helluva year, and I'm so glad it's over. My first *calendar* year of blogging has been a doozy. Hopefully 2012 will be a better, happier brand of crazy.

Yeah, "joyful" wasn't going to happen today.

3. Open letter to Santa Claus.

Dear Mr. Claus,

I'm not even going to lie. I haven't exactly been my ideal self this year. I've been lazy, I've eaten too much junk food too often, I've flaked out on friends and loved ones, I've made seemingly whim-induced life changes that have gotten me nowhere, I've hidden from everyone, I've become a bit of a harpy at times, I've retaliated against passive-aggressive behavior by becoming more passive-aggressive than I've ever been at any other time in my life, I've wallowed in self-pity, I've raged internally and at anyone "safe" to rage at, I've started a blog to unleash myself onto a somewhat-anonymous format, I've successfully and unsuccessfully battled depression, I've made plans and set goals I didn't/couldn't stick to, I've been ashamed of myself, I've been furious at myself/everybody/everything, and I've blamed others for things that are my fault--or aren't anybody's fault.

I don't believe in God. But I do believe in random miracles, and I do believe in redemption. I do believe in love, and family, and friendship, and charity, and community, and forgiveness, and kindness, and happiness, and hope. I do believe in doing what's ultimately right, even if it hurts in the moment. I do believe in making sacrifices and in finding the silver lining in any dark cloud.

I know that your typical atheist should not give a crap about Christmas. And honestly, I go back and forth over it. But I still love the general sense of happiness and love and family that is much more freely expressed around this time of year (with an being exception in retail--you stand between an old lady and her expired coupons and the only sense of "family" you'll get is when you're crying "UNCLE!" as she glares and stabs you with her bony elbows.). I'm hoping that the universe, and you, Santa Claus, will throw me a metaphorical bone here this year. Really, all I am hoping for is peace. I'm hoping that things will miraculously align in such a way that I will be able to live peacefully in my own home by the end of this year. I know it's a lot to ask, and that there are a lot of things that need to be done. I know that my home won't be completely repaired for a while, but if you could help a girl and her hubby out a little and make it liveable I promise I'll go as much all-out as I can next year. I'll decorate a tree, I'll put up lights, bake cakes and pies and cookies from Thanksgiving to New Year's Eve, occasionally listen to (Santa-not-Jesus related) Christmas music, and I'll put a wreath on the door. Maybe I'll even host a party with fancy clothes and finger foods and apple cider or lots of booze. I don't drink, but by golly my guests will. And you know I don't like my home being invaded by large groups, Santa, so you know I'm willing to make sacrifices here. All I want for Christmas is to not still be living in someone else's home in any part of 2012.

Also, The Hubby would like a good 3D TV.

Hugs,
Beth

Holding pattern.

If you're here looking for a laugh, check out the hilarious reviews for this amazing product. Seriously, who doesn't need a pair or two of handerpants?? And if you're not impressed, there's always the classic Three Wolf Moon shirt, where I can always find the most epic, amazing reviews that can instantly cheer me up.

* * * * * *

In any case, that was the "phoning it in" fluff so the few readers I have don't forget about me, and know I'm still alive and haven't forgotten about them! If you're here to read a rambling wallow in self-pity, read on, because after this sentence comes the *actual* post.

It's been almost 2 weeks since I last posted, and I am ashamed of that. It's not like I haven't had plenty of time on my hands, or plenty of ideas for posts... I actually have a ton of drafts of posts started, but I just haven't seemed to have the energy to do much but sleep or read or snack or watch shows on the computer or anything else that doesn't require much getting up off my butt or thinking. I go to work, come home, and blah. On days when I don't work, all-day blah. Folks, I think it's safe to say that the depression is back.

There was a couple of weeks solid where I was crying at the drop of a hat, and every time I went to sleep it was nightmare after nightmare. I just want to be left alone, I'm extremely irritable, don't feel like doing anything productive, and just want to sleep all day. That oh-so-familiar empty feeling is back, and I feel like my job is not helping at all. I'm basically selling my weekends and ability to make plans, and the tiny paycheck is totally not worth it.  I've already had to miss one event with my friends that I really wanted to be able to make it to, and I don't want to have to wait until Christmas to see my family again. This will most likely be the last year we'll all be together for a while, and it sucks ass that I will most likely only be able to spend a few hours with them on Christmas day. I so hate working retail. I've sent out resumes, but no luck so far. There's just not a lot of hiring going on right now, and although I totally rock at everything most places are looking for people with experience that I don't have, or it's more freaking retail.

I'm just kind of miserable right now. I hate that I've moved backwards like this in the job department. I hate that in every other aspect of my life I'm just in this kind of holding pattern, waiting. Waiting for our house to be finished. (I hope it's done by Christmas, and the fact that I have to *hope* for that pisses me off. It's been 6 months. It could have been done twice by now. "Progress" keeps getting stalled.) Waiting for a different job to come along. Waiting for The Hubby to leave for and be done with boot camp and all the training after that so we can get out of here and away from some of the toxic cycles we're stuck in. Waiting for our life to start. It feels like starting over, and I wish it would hurry up already. I feel like I'm about to lose it, but I can't allow that to happen because I wouldn't even be able to simply deal with it in the privacy of my own damn home.

Nice little surprises.

Our plans have changed, as they so often do. We are in the process of repairing our mess of a house so we can move back in it. Hopefully one day we'll sell it. But in any case we're using this opportunity to make the improvements it has desperately needed--even changing the floor plan a little--and are going to make it a house that we enjoy, rather than one we tolerate.

I was talking to a friend at work, and she asked me how long I'd been married. She was surprised when I replied "Six years," mostly because of how young I still am. When she asked "Why?" as people ask me almost every time I mention being married (most people assume an unexpected pregnancy is what led us to marry at 18/19... Nope!), I simply grinned and said "We're just crazy like that, I guess!" This time, though, the response I got to that was different than usual, and was doubly unexpected due to this person's generally sarcastic nature, which is actually something I love about her.

"Well, I guess it worked. You guys seem to be that lucky couple who still like each other, and it's not like I hear you complaining about him all the time, griping about 'THAT IDIOT' or anything."

And that was it. There was no second guessing my choice beyond that automatic first reaction of surprise, no expression of doubt that it is as good and solid of a marriage as I say it is, and no cynical statement of the statistics that insist we're doomed to divorce. (And according to the stats, there's a lot going against us--our ages, family histories, lack of religion, length of time dating before marriage, and our socioeconomic status.) There was no launching into tales of how they or friends or family members or friends of friends or family members got married young and divorced soon after.

There was no need for me to defend myself and my marriage, in all the ways I sometimes feel forced to do, which then makes me feel frustrated and ashamed, because how do you explain a marriage to someone, and why do I always end up feeling like I'm supposed to try? Why do they ask why I got married? What do they expect me to say, if it wasn't "I got pregnant"? (Never mind, they ask because they expect me to say exactly that, so they can be smug about it and say "I figured as much." Eat it, ass hats.) Why do people say asshole things like "I'm glad I  didn't get married that young," or "There's no way I was ready to get married when I was 18," or whatever else they find to say that simultaneously appears self-deprecating and gets across their negative judgment of my decision to do just that. It's similar to when people say asshole things like "At least you did things the right way and got married first, instead of having kids first like I did" or "I wish I could sit around and relax, but I get bored after a few minutes and have to get up and clean or something," or "What are you talking about? You're not fat, I'm fat."

Nope. All I got was a thoughtful, refreshing to my aching ears, "Well, I guess it worked." And you know what? It did, and it still does. And honestly? It works better now than it did when we first got married. And seriously? Isn't that the way it should be?



*Note: In case it wasn't clear by my calling people who talk about it like that "assholes," I could care less in what order someone experiences children and marriage, or if they ever even get married. I personally don't think there's a "right" way or timeline to do things, and it irritates the hell out of me when people judge others for having children without being married. Even when they say that about themselves, expecting you to feel uncomfortable and either placate them or agree with them(?), which would just piss them off and lead them to say that you think you're better than they are. Again, these people are assholes, in my opinion.

Productivity is for losers.

Chocolate chip cookies at 5:30 in the morning? Why yes, I think so. And they taste just as fabulous as I thought they would.

I had the most lovely 3-day holiday weekend, which included a trip to the theater to see "Bridesmaids" (a movie that was exactly what I needed at the moment and I'd love to go see again and again), a night spent ripping drywall and flooring out of the house (well, mostly I watched and played with our favorite stray kitty), house hunting, and a wonderful amount of time spent with that husband of mine.

Of course since this was such an active, busy weekend for us the temperature decided that it was time to stop fucking around already and we spent the whole time sweating balls. This led me to reiterate my rule that our next house needs to have central air. Please. I'm tired of having one liveable room, with the rest being a sauna in the summer and an icebox in the winter. I'd try and include fall and spring, but fall and spring here are a joke. I think we had some nice spring-like days in February, before the temps dropped back down to "icicles hanging from your eyebrows," then swung back up to "Don't you DARE sit next to me, it's too hot for that shit!", and then back down to frigid.

In any case, I didn't work  last night, but went to bed "early" because we have an appointment at 3:15 to see what kind of home loan we can qualify for, so we can start narrowing down our search for a house and get serious about it. Unfortunately, despite having taken a sleeping pill to hopefully help me sleep through the night, I still woke up on our rapidly-deflating air mattress, my left side actually touching the floor, and forced the hubby to instinctively cover his junk in his sleep as I stepped over him to head to the bathroom at 2:30 A.M, only about 4 hours later. After the quick pee, I tossed and turned on the floor/sad excuse for an air mattress trying to get back to sleep, but as I now look at the clock it says it's 6:25 and I'm blogging.  This is only a little bit by choice... If I could choose, I'd be drooling on my memory foam pillow right now, but if I'm cursed with insomnia like this I'll gladly share my misery with any poor fool bored enough to read about it. I think this week we'll be taking the little bit of money we have saved up and will buy an actual mattress. If THAT deflates we'll know it's time to re-think our diets, and possible contact an exorcist.

30 days out.

Today marks the one-month anniversary of our "homelessness." Yay. I figured I'd use this opportunity to fill in some of the gaps between that first day and today.

Like I mentioned here, that first day was craziness, we ended up staying at a friend's house and I went to work that night. That kicked off a few solid days of almost no sleep. Although The Princess (our dog) had a blast at my friend's house, he also caused a few problems... including an opportunity for one of my friend's dogs to escape! He did return quickly (apparently he does that often!), but still, I was quite stressed since I was there by myself at the time. The Hubby had gone to help move some of his parents' stuff to higher ground in case the water reached their house, my friend was working, and her fiance was running around helping friends/family members and checking out the damage. So at some point The Hubby returned, said "We borrowed a boat. I'm going to rescue the kitties. I'll be back," and then he left again. I was speechless, and thrilled. He took them and The Princess to stay with some of his family until we could get settled. The bad news was that he had to "dock" the boat on our front porch, as the water was pretty deep and was about 6 inches deep in our house in some spots, and about a foot deep in the laundry room (which is ground level). But they were able to get some more of our stuff out of the house, and the kitties were now safe and secure. Meanwhile, rather than sleeping after a full night of work, I was moving the few belongings we had at that point into a hotel room, where we would be staying for the next three nights. Hotels are usually creepy, but the door to our room appeared to have been broken down at some point. It wouldn't lock right. After that, we transferred to a different hotel, which was way worse than that one. We only had to stay there one night, since the next day The In-Laws decided that their house was safe from floodwaters and they were going to move back in there. Still, this led to a few more sleepless "nights" (days, really, since I was still going to work every night) due to dogs barking and my nephew crying (his default setting, it seems) whenever The Sister-In-Law was over or dropped him off with her parents. And that's pretty much where we are now.

My phone has never been as busy as it was the first couple of weeks after our house flooded. Between concerned calls from family and friends, trying to get things figured out, and hearing about the rumor mill working over time in our town, I was seriously doing some networking. Information was gold. There was a town meeting (which was crap), rumors of riots (crap), drunken idiots from my town crammed into one hotel (the police were called at one point), and all kinds of people either complaining or doing what needed to be done. Most of the loudest complainers were the ones who were the least affected. It made me hate my town even more than I already did, hearing people complain about a little water in their yard, or in their crawl space under their house, and getting pissed that they weren't going to get the same amount of money as people who had water almost up to their windows. I quickly adopted the attitude regarding my own situation of "It's just stuff, we're okay, and hell, we wanted to move anyway!" At the same time, however, I feel so badly for those who aren't as lucky as we are. But I am still dreading the idea of having to completely furnish a new house. *shudder*  The Hubby sticks firmly to the idea of bean bag chairs, but he elaborated by saying they'll be all black. We'll call the look "Flood Chic."

Motivation.

Motivation is something I've been seriously struggling with lately. I'm just not finding the energy to do much anymore, and don't really feel much like trying. (And before you ask, yes, I DID go back to the doctor and got that prescription refilled!) I've been working pretty much nonstop, and when I'm not at work I'm asleep. Somewhere in all that I may eat something, and occasionally I even get to spend some time with The Hubby.

On the good news front (and there's quite a bit of it!):

• We are still safe and secure, currently living with The In-Laws, and our animals are still with us. And they're loving the new digs.
• Since we've been able to get back to the house, we've been able to slowly start getting some of our stuff out. Not the big stuff like furniture and major appliances, because most of those are done for, but some of the little stuff and some of the stuff with sentimental value. We were able to save most of our pictures, wedding bands (with both of us working in factories we can't really wear them day-to-day), The Hubby's collection of Ninja Turtles (sigh), guitars/amps, the TV and the Wii (but not the cords), the lockbox that holds most of our important documents (And some of those documents were even salvageable. The lockbox floated the best it could, but alas, it was under the bed... It would have been fine otherwise!), and a bunch of other miscellaneous stuff. 
• As soon as our county was declared a disaster area, FEMA stepped in. We applied online for assistance, our house was inspected, and within two or three business days we got some money in the bank--enough to pay off what we owed on the house.
• Everyone has been so amazing through all of this. Offers of help have come in from all directions, and sometimes from totally unexpected sources. So many offered to share their homes with us, or have been willing to donate items, or to store stuff for us, or were willing to provide the work or tools needed to move belongings or work on the house. And of course all the "let me know if you need anything"s. We've been amazed at the outpouring of support we've received, and are so grateful. We are truly lucky to have the friends and family that we do.  

Although this whole situation really, really, REALLY sucks, I'm (we're) handling it really well , especially thanks to our friends and family members. Things could have been so much worse for us. Now we're able to be cautiously excited. Worried and stressed, but excited at this opportunity to make changes in our lives.  Now we "get" to buy a new house, with new furniture, all on our own. It'll take a while, and we'll probably be sleeping on our recently-purchased air mattress for quite some time and, once we get into a new place, investing in some bean bag chairs for a while until we can afford *real* furniture, but we'll get there. Slowly but surely we will get there.

Thank you all so much for being patient with me on my total slacking regarding posting! Although it didn't help that Blogger was down for a few days, either... I know I still have quite a few stories to tell from the past couple weeks, so I promise I'll be back to posting more regularly again soon. Also, note the new "the title may be a *bit* misleading" label. I'm sure this will not be the last time it will be used, but it is indeed the first. Maybe I'll go back through older posts and see if it applies elsewhere. Meh.

Flood Extravaganza, Day 1.

Here’s Day 1 of our story.
Around 12:30 a.m. on Thursday, April 28th I was sitting in the break room at work. It had been raining off and on for about a week, and Thursday was supposed to be a pretty, clear day with no rain. When I had gone into work the night before, it was sprinkling a little bit but the drainage ditch that runs next to our house only had a trickle of water in it. That was not unusual, even though we had received massive amounts of rain over the past week. Rivers were flooding, and things were really bad for a lot of people, but the drainage ditch had always prevented our yard from getting too bad. It never held a lot of water for very long. So I was more than a little bit surprised when one of the guys I work with called me over to his table and told me that they were going door-to-door evacuating my town because of flooding. (Note: I'm not watching a lot of TV these days, so I've been relying a LOT on word-of-mouth and news apps on my phone for my news, especially since my computer stopped connecting to our wifi. And no, that's not a priority right now.) I called The Hubby, waking him up, and told him what was up, asked if anything was going on. During that conversation I learned that yep, the drainage ditch and all the ditches around our house were about full. One neighbor near us had hitched his camper up to his truck and was packing everything up, ready to go anytime. They had evacuated the nursing home down the street from us. I asked The Hubby if he wanted me to come home, and after discussing it I ended up staying at work with the understanding that he would keep me posted via text and let me know if I needed to leave. I let my supervisor know what was up in case I had to leave early, but I never heard anything. 


I checked my messages again when I was leaving work and had just received a text from him a half hour before saying that there were two or three inches covering the yard, and that he had taken the dog over to his parents’ house (they live in the same town but farther east, which was not flooded yet) because he won’t use the bathroom in water like that. He told me to be careful if I came back to the house, but after talking with him on the way home we decided it would be safer for me to head straight over to his parents’ house while he went on to work. I had doubted my car would even make it through the driveway with that much standing water. Once I got to the In-Laws’ house, I went immediately into the room where they were going to let me sleep. I burst into tears, thinking about my house, the cats, and having nothing but the clothes on my back, my purse, and my lunch box. Shut up, it's totally a grown-up lunch box. How had all this happened in just a few hours? And I stressed over the fact that I was seriously in need of sleep, because I hadn’t been sleeping very well the past few days. After a few minutes I was able to make my way into the living room with his parents to discuss what was going on and figure out a plan of action. Around 7 or 7:30 we hopped in the car and headed over to my house to pack up some of our things. We couldn’t even safely get onto the road in front of my house to get to the driveway so we parked the car on the road beside my house instead (I live on a corner), giving us that much farther to walk in the water to get to the side door that we use to get into the house (the front door won’t open). The water was almost to the top of my rain boots in some spots as I walked through the driveway, or our closest estimation of where the driveway is supposed to be anyway. It covered the bottom porch step. 


I kept running around in circles inside, thinking of all the things that I should get. I decided to pack a few days’ worth of stuff, just enough to get us through. I thought I was probably packing too much stuff. Still, I filled our three bags with clothes, toiletries, and “essential” electronics and accessories-phones, chargers, laptop, and my Kindle. I didn’t take the kitties, since I didn’t think we'd be gone that long, and I didn't think they’d appreciate me carrying them across such a large body of water. It didn’t even cross my mind that we did still have one pet carrier hidden away somewhere. I loved on them for a while before we left, but my heart still broke. I told myself that this probably wasn’t a big deal, we’d be able to go back and get more stuff later if we needed to, and the kitties’ food was at least on the counter up off the ground. We’d be back home before we knew it. 


We waded back to the car, arms full of stuff, and went back to their house. Now Hubby’s sister, her boyfriend, and her baby were staying at the In-Law’s as well… They live down the street from us, and were getting flooded as well. I know it’s hard to sleep in a house with a baby, and this was a full house, with a lot of stuff going on, but after an hour or so I tried to get some sleep anyway. While I was down for a nap (all too short of one…) they went back to my house and SIL’s house to check on the situation and move things up higher just in case the water did get into the house. My MIL went to help her parents (who live across the street from us) by bringing their dog to her house, then working on getting her parents into a wheelchair-accessible hotel room. When I woke up I learned that the water had risen almost a foot since that morning when I was there, was now up to the porch itself, and was still rising. Still, I thought we’d be able to go back for the lock box with our important documents and other SUPER-IMPORTANT things like that which I had of course forgotten. I hadn’t even grabbed the sentimental-value stuff, because I wasn’t thinking about it being that serious. Also, maybe on some level I didn't want to get yelled at for grabbing pictures but no socks, pajamas, or our toothbrushes. My mind was in a total fog of denial. I simply could not comprehend this, and still can’t.

So when The Hubby got home from work that day (he did end up leaving early) we put on our boots and started walking, not wanting to bother with a vehicle down the streets clogged with people and other vehicles, including emergency vehicles and the National Guard. We made it to about 3 or 4 blocks away from our house before we stopped. We could see where our street was supposed to be, but the water was just too deep. Someone even came down that street driving a big SUV, and the water was up to the tops of their tires. We stood there for a moment, then turned around. 

We didn't know what to do, since we didn't know whether his parents' house would get flooded too, or if we were supposed to evacuate, or anything. All we had to go on was the rumor mill, and it was working full time cranking out more bullshit than facts. We heard that a local organization backed by FEMA was providing free hotel stays for up to 3 nights, so we contacted them to hook that up for ourselves. Then we just had to wait to hear back from them. In the meantime, we wanted to go ahead and leave town, so we went to stay with a friend of mine until we heard about the hotel. Not knowing anything about what was going to happen, how things were going to work out, or what kind of condition my house (and my kitties!) were in, and having had almost no sleep, I went on to work that night. There was nothing I could do anywhere else, and I figured I needed the distraction, and I was definitely going to be needing the paycheck. To say that night at work was "rough" would be a dramatic understatement, even when I got the call back about the hotel stay. We decided we (Hubby, really) would go on and stay at my friend's house that night, then we'd go to the hotel the next day. And so ended Day 1.

I won't split the rest of it into Day 2 and 3, etc., but this will have to be continued in another post for now... 

No title describes this well enough.

*Written April 29th, 2011, in a hotel room... by me, of course*

A week or so ago a bunch of dangerous storms started rolling through our area. I started working on a blog post about my absolute terror regarding tornados, joking about some of the low-priority things I worry about should a tornado sweep through my tiny town. Mind you, I truly am terrified of tornados, but find it much easier to wonder about the little details that don’t matter.  I chose not to post that one, because it just didn’t feel right. Even though I wrote that I knew none of that piddly stuff would even come close to mattering in the event of an actual tornado destroying my house, it did still seem selfish, shallow, and insulting. Since that wasn’t my intention, I chose not to post it and deleted it. Note: This was also before the tornados that devastated the South, after which it became a significantly less amusing topic for me to discuss lightly. Then disaster really did strike us, from a direction I totally didn’t expect.


You see, tornados happen around here all the time. They are by no means an uncommon occurrence. So that fact coupled with my fear of them makes it reasonable for me to think and worry about that often. If you’ve been paying any attention to the tremendous amount of damage and devastation caused by the record-breaking outbreak of tornados in Alabama and throughout the South the past week, you know that they are not something to take lightly. I can only sit in silence when staring at the pictures and videos of the magnitude of the destruction down there. I feel so badly for what has happened to them. But still, that’s not why I’m writing this post.


It wasn’t a tornado that took my house, it was a massive flood. And I was right—I don’t care that there were dirty dishes in the sink, that the floor hadn’t been vacuumed in a few days, that there were dirty clothes all over the place because I was slowly getting through the laundry. I don’t care that anyone opening my fridge would most likely only find sodas, expired milk, and 3 kinds of hot sauce. And some Sweet Baby Ray’s barbecue sauce, because that stuff’s amazing! It tastes great with The Hubby’s grilled chicken. I don’t care that our cabinets and freezers are filled with junk food, or that there’s probably piles of cat puke hidden in strange places throughout the house, from the times when we weren’t there to hear them horking it up and hadn’t come across it yet. I didn’t and still don’t care about any of that. I’ll tell the whole story in another post, but truly all I care about is that The Hubby is laying next to me in our hotel room (paid for by a local organization), the animals are safely tucked away with one of his relatives, and we have some clothes to wear, phones (and chargers!) and the laptop computer to stay connected to those we love.* We have so much love for everyone that’s been supporting us and reaching out, willing to do anything they can to help us get through this difficult time.

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Written May 5, 2011
* - Totally didn't work out that way... We've been having trouble with our laptop. It no longer feels it needs to connect to the internet anywhere. So I've been sitting on this post until I had access to a computer that WILL access the internet, and had to save the document to my phone then email it to myself in order for that to happen, and had to have the time and energy to do all that plus whatever editing would be necessary. See how dedicated I am?

And just to make sure everyone's up-to-date regarding our status, we are safe, we're now living with The Hubby's parents, the animals are back with us, we're both still working, our insurance is NOT going to cover the damage, and we are NOT going to be able to live in our house again. Looking for new digs. Just like all the other flood victims. Again, I will tell more of the story later. Please wish us luck, and if you're aware of any decent places for rent in our area please email me/call/whatever!