Everything moves slower down here, and I'm not just waxing poetic; this is purely observational. Even the cashiers at the local Wal-Mart seem to have the same problem. Like the one who forgot to scan my 75 cent coupon for almond milk today and then simply said "sorry" and handed it back to me. I could go to the service desk and retrieve my 75 cents she said. I held my laugh until I got to the car and then drove the 20 minutes back home thinking about how Wal-Mart has ruined everything good in the world, even coupons.
On occasion I find myself without anything to do. You see, Connie runs a tight ship. Things are generally neat and orderly and we managed to keep the items we brought with us to a relative minimum, thus eliminating any extra up-keep on my part. Not that I don't help my mom, I do, but that whole process is really streamlined. Turns out not having your own house to clean and often having an extra set of hands to help with children suddenly means I've got some extra time. What have I been doing with it? Other then changing 5 billion diapers thanks to a case of chronic diarrhea for Triple, last night I stayed up until 1 am watching past episodes of "New Girl" and laughing out loud to myself. The episode where she can't say "penis"? Oh glory. You should be watching that business. We got rid of our DISH in the move. My beloved dvr went with it, and I have since signed up for Hulu Plus and Netflix thanks to the wireless enabled blu-ray player Paul's parents so generously gifted us for Christmas. Hulu-Plus is like the best thing since sliced bread you guys. And I really like sliced bread. Also I've been watching, Downton Abbey along with everyone else and their dog. Except for Paul who seriously hates period dramas, a terrible misfortune if you ask me. Young Victoria? Pride and Prejudice? Clueless? He is missing out.
I've also been taking pictures of my flat, saggy, bra less chest (with my shirt on you sickos) and sending them to my friends via text message "SEE HOW WRECKED THEY ARE?". Everyone concurs and then we compete for who has the ugliest boobs. Too big, too saggly, too-in-your-face? There are many categories, and I think really, we're all winners.
Paul and I are meeting with a mortgage lender on Friday and I've already started developing anxiety sweats over the whole thing. Sure, it's just a non-committal, how do you do, here are my tax returns, pay stubs, and inept records of financial stewardship will you consider giving us 100k+ dollars sort of meeting, NO BIG DEAL. You people who have bought multiple houses, I don't know how you do it. This shizz is stressful and we haven't even started yet. The good news is that there are a crap load of houses out there for us to choose from, most all of them featuring 4+ bedrooms, a basement, multiple bathrooms, and a FENCED YARD! Lord bless this buyer's market, and bless that we find a house and live there forever because I'm pretty much over moving yo. My kids basically think we're homeless and the Nub keeps asking when we get to move into our new house. Kid, you will cry for the days when you used to get as much attention as you're getting right now. You are living the high life and you don't even know it. Then again, maybe I am too.