September 2 and it's already cat lady crazy around here. I mean, more so than usual. If we make it to the end of September and nobody has run off to the looney bin, it will be a biblically proportioned miracle, and I am going to call the Vatican.
First off, I am having panic attacks about Mr. Farmer Next Door, who informed us last week that he is going to start irrigating again. We all remember, do we not, what happened last time he decided to turn his water on. Our on-again, off-again contractor buddy, who has been sort of kind of finishing our basement, promised us he would get our sump pump in by the end of next week. Of course, he also promised us we could be sheet rocking by Pioneer Day. When you translate the phrase "end of next week" into Contractorese, the time frame on that could be anything from tomorrow to next Flag Day. But if you employ a little optimism, the sump pump and gas line could possibly be done next week, insulation and sheet rock the next week, then finishing, paint and carpet would be a point on the distant horizon, provided you close one eye and squint a little bit with the other one. Our goal of having a family room for Christmas may actually come to pass. After our wiring hullabaloo though, I am not holding my breath. Our one day wiring project turned into a 3 week long, 9 person square dance, complete with a hoe down and bluegrass jam. Seriously. There was a bluegrass jam in my basement during the wiring hullabaloo. Banjos and all. It was in Duncan's room, though, since the amplifiers needed power, which, ironically, was not yet working in the family room. I'm not complaining though. You can flip a switch on the wall and the lights come on down there, and that is all that matters. That's more than I can say about some people.
Flying object number two is that Alisa LEAVES THE COUNTRY IN 4 DAYS. I am not yet processing this fact. Somewhere in the back of my head, a squeaky little voice named JoJo is telling me that in 5 days, my daughter will be wandering around Paris all alone, a tiny wad of Euros in her pocket and pulling her lone suitcase along behind her, trying to find a kind looking person who speaks English, to ask directions to the train station. And it will be raining. And she won't have an umbrella. For now, I just keep ignoring JoJo, but JoJo is growing every day, and by Tuesday, she will be nearly too big to contain inside my brain. Which is why I took Wednesday and Thursday off work. JoJo and I will be sitting side by side on my couch by then, sharing a diet Pepsi and a Dove bar. My cell phone will be in my hand, just in case. Just in case of what, I don't know., but I'll be ready for it. And after I get the news that Alisa has arrived safely at her dorm in Caen, I am going to kill JoJo with my bare hands.
On top of basements and floods and continent changes, there are other changes coming too, also continent-sized for us. . But sadly, I'm not ready to openly admit to them yet. I am still thinking about all of it. I'm slow that way. Now, I really hate when you are reading a blog and the writer hints at some massive happening in their lives, but won't dish about any of the details. But if you know me, you probably already know what is in the works. And if you don't know yet, then maybe you shouldn't . Or maybe you should. I don't know. Maybe you should call me. Or text. You know who you are.
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