Cheese With Your Whine?
9.10.2005
GhostsThanks to all who responded to my last post. I've been very frustrated as of late about the whole issue and it helps to know that I'm not alone in those feelings. Blogging is great! It's an awesome association with people you don't know but find you have much in common with. I love, I love it, I love it [in the voice of Molly Shannon on SNL raising her leg straight in the air]!
Now on to this post.
I'm being haunted. By ghosts from my past. No, it's not some creepy ex-boyfriend. Or a psycho old roommate. Or a weirdo I met online. It's groceries I bought and rent I paid - on a credit card that didn't get paid off - three years ago. It really sucks big time.
I found the perfect house in the perfect neighborhood. Actually it's not built yet, which is another part of the perfection. It's as big as I'll ever need, very affordable, and I'll get to customize it to my heart's content. Or I won't. Because my credit sucks. Mind you that for the past two and a half years everything looks fine. But three years ago when I left the old life with literally nothing but a way too expensive vehicle and a credit card, I lived on that card because it was all I had. I also have been fighting with the hospital at which I had the punkin because they refuse to set up a payment plan for the thousands of dollars I owe them for the 48 hours I took up a bed there after a c-section that I desperately wanted to avoid.
I'm not a bad person. I always pay my rent. And my car payment. Any my phone bill. And, and, and. But I haven't always been able to, so NOW, I'm paying for it by having to live in another apartment until I can get this whole damn mess cleaned up.
Of course everyone and their dog will charge you $600 - $1000 to fix your credit so that you can 'probably' qualify for a mortgage loan. Well, probably isn't good enough. I'll keep my money, thank you.
Geez, I'm bummed. That house is perfect. Perfect, I tell ya. The problem is I let myself dream about it a bit too much. I had the office decorated and the guest bedroom set up. I can see the floors and my Ikea-esque living room and kitchen. And now, it's back to some place with neighbors above, and all the other glory that comes with apartment life. Yippe kye yay.
I self medicated tonight with some Marble Slab. It didn't cheer me up though.
But there was good today. We went to a Pampered Chef party at Kami's today. Man can that woman cook. She puts me waaayyy to shame. I bought a couple of goodies, so maybe the Martha Stewart in her will rub off on me.
When we got home, I was checking email and the punkin was being awfully quiet. Every mother knows this is a bad sign, but I finished what I was doing (big mistake) and then went in to see her. She was covered - covered! - in foundation from head to toe. As was my makeup bag. And the floor. And the couch. And her chair. She had gotten into my foundation wand and apparently rubbed every exposed inch of her body with it and then took after other things. I'm sure was thinking "This is the coolest marker EVER!!"
My lipstick was also spread on various non-lip places. This carpet is going to be murder to get clean when we move out.
Rylee has this new baby. She's never been a baby-doll baby, but she got this one and she holds on to it tight and carts it around all the time. It's one of those soft body, plastic headed, sick looking dolls that looks incredibly asexual. But she loves it. Who am I to judge?
She has also become a blankie baby. This was the conversation I had with her teacher on Friday when I picked her up.
M: "Do you want to take home Rylee's blanket and wash it?"
C: "What blanket?"
M: "This blanket she sleeps with at naptime."
C: "That's not her blanket."
M: "It's not? She insists on sleeping with it every day for naps. And she done it for as long as I've been here."
C: "Really? I've never seen it."
So not only has she had this habit I don't know about for some time now, she's evidently also a thief. It's really NOT her blanket. Everyone there thought that I had brought it for her. What a mystery.
I did bring it home though, and now it's tumbling in the dryer, all fresh and clean for her to take back to school with her on Monday.
Blankie baby, indeed.
