A House Is A House Is A House

As I type this, I am dying.

I know what you’re thinking, “We’re all dying. Get over it, bitch.”

No. I am really dying. My throat is on fire, my body aches, I have chills, and to top it all off, my hair is a hot ass mess. (One day, I will figure out how to be sick and maintain a fabulous head of hair, but today ain’t that day.)

So, this whole dying thing wouldn’t be so bad if it weren’t for the fact that…

1. I am a Mommy and Mommies can’t get sick. Why? Because no matter how awesome Daddy is (and I think we all know that my husband is pretty fucking awesome. He’s like, 1045x more awesome than your husband, and you know it) Daddy just can’t get shit done like Mommy. Never mind that my husband does all of the cooking and cleaning, because the moment I get sick, he like, stops. I don’t get it. I really don’t. It’s like, he gets sick by association. Sympathy sick. I don’t know. All I know is I woke up this morning, went downstairs for the first time since Friday evening and realized that my whole first floor was a hot fucking mess (not to be confused with hot ass mess which is the current state of my hair. Pay attention!)

2. I have shit to do!

So, we’re moving and moving sucks. No. It really, really does. Don’t believe me? Gee, I’d count all the ways moving sucks but I seriously don’t have the time, energy, or bandwidth to adequately relay the amount of suckage moving incorporates.

And our move particularly sucks donkey balls because we are downsizing. When we moved here, we were upsizing (yes, I made that word up. I can do that. It’s my blog.) Super-sizing, if you will. We went from two bedrooms, living room, 2.5 baths, kitchen, dining room to four bedrooms, bonus room, family room, kitchen, 3 full baths, formal living room, and formal dining room.

When you’re packing for a bigger house you don’t have to be so picky and decision-making-y.

“What’s that? A closet full of clothes you never wear? Take them all! Have you seen the master closet? It’s like a mini-bedroom. It’s like, bigger than that room under the stairs the Dursleys made Harry Potter sleep in! We’re gonna have so much room. We’re gonna be like the motherfucking Clampetts!”

When you’re downsizing? Not so much. We had big plans for rooms we never went into. I could go months without going into the formal living room. There are rooms that were never fully furnished. I mean, it’s kinda hard to afford furniture for the house when you’re busy trying to, oh, I don’t know, afford the fucking house! And not just the house itself, but the cost of heating the house.

Between doing the flat bill every month, then cancelling the flat bill cause I swore we could do better than what they were charging, then falling a month behind, then having them tack on the difference for cancelling the flat bill, and a late fee and carry the two… agggh… so I called the electric company on Friday and I said, “How much do I have to pay you right now to be current?”
And she said….

Wait for it.

Wait for it.

Wait.

For.

It.

$806!

“Eight hundred and six dollars?!”

She started to give me a bill breakdown and I asked her if she could just please shut her filthy mouth. Then I went online and paid the $806 and tried not to vomit. I was comforted by the fact that in a few short weeks I’d be in a much smaller house that didn’t cost a kajillion dollars to heat/cool.

So, where was I? Oh yeah, so we’re trying to fit big house stuff into smaller house and it’s a pain in the ass. I have found that I am not only emotionally attached to the house, but I’m tethered to the stuff in the house and even moreso when I realize that the stuff isn’t going to make the five minute trip up the road to the new subdivision.

“But I love that futon!” I wailed after Donny explained we’d have to trash the futon we purchased back when we got our very first one bedroom apartment together. (See. When you upsize, EVERYTHING goes with you!)

“Nina. You don’t even use the futon.”

He was right, of course. It resides in our bonus room (the kid’s playroom), and I probably sit my ass on it once a week and that’s only when I go in there to extend the programs on the TiVo.

Other items not making the trip? A twin bed, a dresser, one of our dining tables, and my elliptical.

Wait. What?

Donny claims we won’t have room for it. I’m not a big fan of exercise equipment in the bedroom. I think it looks tacky and it inevitably ends up being a very expensive hamper. First, it was in the family room because that’s where the Wii is and I figured I could do Wii Fit, then the elliptical. Then we moved it to the formal living room because I thought it made the family room cluttered and we’d recently redecorated/painted. But there isn’t a TV in the formal living room and I can’t work out without a TV, right? So, I made my husband lug the monstrosity up to the bonus room, and I can’t quite remember what my excuse was for not using it up there.

Oh, yeah. I’m lazy.

And let’s not even talk about the nursery. Seriously. I cannot bring myself to pack it up. Longtime readers will remember the money and care, but more importantly money, that went into preparing that room for Jack. I mean, I gave up a pair of Louboutins for that nursery! Yes, I won a bet and hit my weight loss goal before getting pregnant and my reward was to be a $700 pair of shoes which I decided would be irresponsible (well, MORE irresponsible) considering the fact that we had a baby on the way and they can’t eat or sleep in designer shoes. No matter how fabulous they are.

And never mind the fact that Jack has not once, not one time, not even half a time, slept in that room. That’s not the point! The point is, it’s his room and I designed it and it’s special because he is special and I said so. So, dismantling the crib that he has not once, not one time, not even half a time, slept in has fallen to Donny because I am too emotional to do it.

And also, I’m lazy.

Isn’t the crib going to the new house, you ask? Well, yes. But again, you people are missing the point.

And it’s not like the new house isn’t about seven, no eight, kinds of awesome. Because it is. Beautiful hardwood floors on the entire first floor, new countertops, awesome his and her master bath sinks, and kickass toilets that normally cost approximately$456,987.33 but because the current owner works for Home Depot and waited for them to go on sale, he got them for like, $20. Right now you’re probably thinking, “Doesn’t Donny work for….” Don’t. Even. Say. It. (Donny thanks you.)

Anyway, it’s a downgrade in size, but an upgrade in so many regards, especially financial and I’m trying to be grateful. Actually, I am grateful. And excited.

It would just be great if I didn’t feel like death warmed over right now.

Happy Monday! How’s yours going?